


Death Of The Lie

by FirithAriel, songsofgallifrey



Series: Death of the Lie [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Child Abuse, First Love, Gen, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-16 15:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 52,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14813699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirithAriel/pseuds/FirithAriel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/songsofgallifrey/pseuds/songsofgallifrey
Summary: Odin and his daughter Hela are the perfect conquerors of the universe. The nine realms fall one after the other into their clutch. After Odin takes a second wife and has a son with her, he doesn't need Hela anymore.Hela abandons her father and ends up marrying Laufey, a sworn enemy of the Aesir people. Not long after, she becomes pregnant with Laufey's child.Odin cannot let that son be born, but against all odds, the boy survives. Odin is forced to bring him back to Asgard to be raised as his own until he could make further use of him.The half-Jotun-half-Aesir boy grows up to look and act a lot like his mother, which disturbs Odin, and makes him treat the boy horribly.Odin's lies are deep and complex, but one day the boy will find out the truth about everything he is.





	1. Treason

“Hela… what have you done?”

The Goddess of Death did not cower under the Allfather’s venomous gaze. One hand lifted and settled on the round curve of her stomach, feeling the gentle fluttering movements of the little one within her. It was not long until the birth. Hela stood before her father, King of Asgard, proud and tall and unafraid in the castle she once called home. She would no longer live under the thumb of his vicious tyranny.

“I have married Laufey,” Hela declared, her voice as strong as her power. “Laufey is my true love, King of the Jotuns, and his son grows strong inside of me. The only reason I bothered to inform you is because you so rudely summoned me here as you would your own horse.”

Odin stared at his daughter's belly with obvious disdain, his fingers gripping tightly to Gungnir until his knuckles turned white. He warred with himself about whether he should destroy Hela and the child right here, right now, before either had the chance to do any more damage. In his mind's eye, however, he could see a war with Jotunheim unlike any that had come before, if he were to murder their Queen and future Prince.

“And what of the child?” he asked. “He will be a half-breed Prince of a realm of monsters. Do you expect Asgard to honor any claim he would have to the throne, once I'm gone? What makes you think he will be welcome among the Jotnar savages? Do you have any idea of the consequences of what you have chosen!?” Odin was trying to stay calm but by his last statement he was on his feet, his booming voice making the guards reach for their weapons.

Hela threw her head back and laughed, a razor sharp sound that was anything but amused. “Who is the monster, _father_ , the one who is considered to be one by no other reason than an accident of birth, or the one who believes himself to be superior to every other creature in the universe and seeks to destroy them all to prove it?”

“I will _not_ be spoken to in such a manner,” Odin bellowed. “You are my daughter and I am still your king!” He struck the ground with Gungnir and it made the throne room quake and the guards stumble, but Hela refused to flinch. His fury was nothing new to her.

“You don't deserve the title,” Hela spat at him. “You're supposed to be the protector of the Nine Realms, not their executioner. You were supposed to protect me, Asgard’s only true heir, and you used me, wielded me as your weapon, conditioned me to believe it was my destiny to rule a kingdom of corpses because you knew I was stronger than you and you couldn't control me any other way.” She swung her right arm out to her side and a jagged sword the length of her arm appeared in her hand.

Pointing the sword at Odin, Hela took a slow, calculating step toward the throne. The King narrowed his eyes at her but otherwise did not move. She cast her eyes around briefly to locate a shadow.

“You think I would believe you have changed just because you found a new wife and put your wretched seed in her? You did nothing more than to birth a replacement for me. One you can groom as you wish! To make him as blind as I once was!” Hela began to gather her power and ready it for her quick escape. “Guess what, Odin Allfather, I am the only one who knows you, and I see you now for what you are. An old man, and a fool!”

Odin raised the spear and aimed it at Hela. “Hold your tongue, traitor, or you shall return to Jotunheim without it!”

That was exactly the cue Hela needed. Grinning fiercely, she swung her sword back over her shoulder and swiftly spun around, releasing the deadly weapon aimed at Odin as she stepped into the shadow of a column. Darkness swallowed her whole and Hela vanished into the portal. The blast of energy that Odin had fired at her hit the opposite wall and he roared as Hela’s necrosword grazed his shoulder, bringing the head of his spear down on the steps in his frustration and pain.

He had to act fast. Trying to gather his wits, Odin paced around the throne room. He had enough power to command an attack on Jotunheim right away. March to war. War against his own daughter and her offspring. That prospect was a somber one. But he had to put sentiment aside.

Hela had grown out of his control, turned savage and dangerous. Her marriage to King Laufey put not only Asgard, but the Nine Realms at risk. Their child would have claim to the Asgard and the Jotun thrones. His family’s long line of power would be severed by the monsters he took an oath to fight against. _That child cannot and will not be born!!_ If war was the answer to that, so be it. He would lay waste to Jotunheim if that’s what it took.

Calmer now that a decision was made, Odin went back to his chambers. The soft laughter of his young son could be heard before he opened the door. Somehow it eased the weight on his heart and the doubts in his mind. Thor was the very reason why Odin would have to march to war. To secure his future he had no other choice but to destroy his own past.

Odin entered the room. A running toddler came to a halt on his leg.

“Dada!”

“My boy!” Odin said, taking the boy in his arms.

“Dada, I has a hamma’!” Little Thor said, showing Odin his wooden toy hammer.

“It is a mighty hammer for a mighty prince!” Odin put the boy back on the floor and watched him flail the hammer around, fighting invisible enemies.

Odin fell on his armchair, worn out after his audience with Hela. Frigga noticed his weariness, but said nothing, waiting for him to speak. Odin kept in silence, watching his young son play around and show him all the things he had learned that day. It only cemented his decision to stop Hela for good.

It wasn’t until the maids took little Thor for his nightly bath that finally Odin spoke to Frigga.

“It is true.” He sighed. “Hela has married Laufey, and she is pregnant with his son.”

Frigga took a deep breath and stood by her husband. “Are you certain?” Odin simply nodded.

“I have no doubts that she will come back with an army.”

“She would only be fighting for what is rightfully hers.” Frigga said.

“So I should let her just take it?” Odin said, disgusted by the sole thought of having Hela and her offspring take over his throne.

“I’m just saying that she wouldn’t be doing anything politically wrong.” Frigga soothed the king. “She _is_ your daughter.”

“A daughter who will not obey and respect her own father.” He scoffed. “One that ran away and betrayed her kingdom. Her own people!” Odin put his head between his hands and rubbed his temples. “If I do nothing I might as well just give the Jotuns the keys to Asgard myself!”

Frigga put her hands on the king’s shoulders. “There must be a way you can avoid confrontation.”

Odin shook his head. “I wish there was, but the only way around this is to attack before she has the chance to give birth, to gather her armies.”

“War.” Frigga muttered, with a slight breath of resignation.

Odin looked up at her and took her hand. “War.” He kissed Frigga’s palm. “To protect you, to protect our son. Our future.”

.-

Next morning, Odin summoned his generals to the war room. The men stood stoic in front of their king, waiting for instruction.

“It pains me to give such orders.” Odin started. “But the army must assemble at once.” A thick silence filled the room. “Hela, the Goddess of Death has betrayed Asgard,” he added.

“It cannot be…” Bjarke, the Hersir, muttered, disbelieving. The rest silently agreed. They had followed Hela into war themselves more than once.

“It shouldn’t be, but it is.” Odin continued. “She has married King Laufey of Jotunheim in secret. She has consorted with him and right now she’s close to giving birth to his offspring. Once she does, she will march on Asgard. This cannot happen.”

The men grew restless. Some were still fighting their disbelief, the others were angry at their former leader. Treason was something the people of Asgard did not take lightly. Odin gave them a moment to deal with this revelation.

“What are your orders, my king?” Bjarke asked, the other men standing at attention by his side.

“We march for Jotunheim in two days.”


	2. Birth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin has marched on Jotunheim and Hela has run out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Graphic depiction of childbirth **

If Hela hadn't known any better, she would have sworn she was dying. Her labor pains had been mild throughout the night - she had been able to sleep through the early ones - but now each pain gripped her body like a vice and stole her breath. She clutched Laufey’s hand when another contraction started, as though it was keeping her from drowning, and he winced when the bones in his palm cracked from her strength. Now in the final stage, the pains were nearly on top of each other and Hela was growing restless.

“My Queen,” Laufey begged her, stroking his icy hand over Hela’s sweaty forehead to offer her a bit of relief, “you must remember to breathe. Try walking around again, that helped you earlier when your waters broke.”

Hela clenched her teeth and let out a sharp breath. If this lasted much longer she would seriously consider using her own sword to cut the baby out herself, if only to end the agony. She awkwardly rose to her feet from the bed and took a few steps before another contraction started, forcing from her a snarling scream. Laufey was at her side instantly, whispering words of encouragement as he held up her shoulders. He pressed his forehead to hers and they breathed together until the pain subsided.

“I don't know how the great Queens went through this multiple times,” Hela groaned. “I'm not sure I could ever do this again, if it's always this torturous.”

“Hela, my love -”

Laufey's sentiment was cut off by a deafening roar, accompanied by the unmistakable flashing light of the Bifrost glaring through their bedroom window from the castle grounds. He rushed to the open window and was paralyzed with both fear and rage as Asgard's soldiers poured from the portal in hordes. Within seconds there were easily more than a thousand, with more coming, each of the Einherjar armed to the teeth and out for blood. Odin himself stood at the fore of the battalion, saddled high on his eight-legged steed, his spear raised and ready to signal the attack. Laufey turned to his vulnerable queen, his words unable to find their way from his brain to his mouth. If he didn't act quickly it would be mere moments before they would reach the castle gates. Hela’s cries brought him back to himself and he strode resolutely toward the door.

“What's going on? Where are you going!?” Hela’s face was distorted in pain, tears falling as she held her hardening stomach. “You can't leave me!”

Laufey stopped to look over his shoulder at her, only briefly, for he didn't want the sight of her to change his mind. “I have to alert the soldiers,” he explained. There was no mistaking the gravity of his choice - he knew that to leave this room was to place his life on the line for the future of his realm.

For his son.

Without another word, Laufey passed through the doorway and down the hall, leaving Hela on her own. She fell to her knees when the next contraction started, this one less than half a minute from the last, and wrapped her arms around her belly protectively. Sobbing quietly, she waited for the pain to slow down and tried to rise to her feet. She wanted to see for herself what was happening outside.

“ _HELAAA!_ ” Odin's commanding voice rang out across the expanse of the frozen landscape, freezing Hela to her spot on all fours on the floor. She took a few gasping breaths and sat up on her heels. Now was not the time to panic. “Surrender or my men will ensure that no Jotun shall live to see another day!”

The ultimatum dropped into Hela’s gut like a block of ice. She had to do something. The Jotuns were hopelessly outnumbered, if Odin had brought all of the Einherjar with him. If it was war he wanted, it would be less of a war and more of a slaughter. Collecting what strength she still possessed, Hela crawled the few more feet to the window and pulled herself up to standing using the sill. She had one shot, and she had to take it between contractions.

In her right hand Hela concentrated her power and summoned a deadly black spike the length of a lance. With her power weakened from the labor, it was brittle, she could tell from its texture, but its obsidian surface still shone in the light of the torch next to her on the wall, its familiar weight in her hand a comforting feeling in this turbulent moment. Wavering on her feet and breathing hard, she closed her eyes to focus through the pain. Once she felt in control, Hela opened her eyes, raised her right arm back as far as she could, her left extended to the front to help her aim, and with all her might she threw the spike through the window, its needle-sharp tip pointed at Odin's heart.

She never saw if her spike hit its mark; the momentum of her throw put her off balance and Hela dropped heavily to the floor on her side. She had no choice but to lay there and pray her child had not been harmed until she adjusted to the fresh pain in her ribs. Below her, the floor began to quake - Laufey must have succeeded in rounding up the soldiers. The pounding of their feet echoed through the castle like a stampede. It did little to reassure Hela, but it was better than letting the Einherjar storm the gates with no resistance.

At last Hela found the strength to sit up and rise to her feet. It was nearly time for the delivery, Hela knew, as each contraction was now immediately followed by the next with no more than a few seconds between them. She didn't waste her energy screaming out the pain like she desperately wanted to. There wasn't time. She could hear a clamor outside the castle as the Jotun soldiers left the castle to face the Asgardians head-on, and that meant the interior of the castle - with her in it - would be unguarded, so she needed to get to safety. For all her strength, there was not a chance in Helheim that she would be able to fight off an Einherjar, or Odin himself.

Laufey had shown Hela months ago where to find a hidden safe room, were anything to happen to him and she couldn't fight. Steeling her nerve and swallowing her pain, step by step Hela made her way across the bedchamber and into the hallway, stopping every ten or fifteen steps to breathe through her contractions. She was beginning to feel an overwhelming urge to bear down and push as she came to the last room in the hall, and she had to stop herself from doing just that while she opened the heavy door. Hela had to turn around and push the door with her back and she was horrified to see a steady trail of blood on the floor leading from the bedchamber. She was so focused on reaching the safe room that she hadn't even noticed. Her eyes followed the blood trail and her heart nearly stopped at the sight of her gown, the bottom part of the viridescent fabric between her legs stained a bright crimson. She ran one hand over her stomach, feeling the muscles in her womb tighten beneath her shaking fingers.

_My baby…_

The sound of forged steel shattering ice brought Hela’s mind back into focus. She still had her back braced against the door and for some reason she couldn't pinpoint she was waiting to finish opening it. Soldiers both Jotun and Aesir were shouting at one another as they fought, making her long to hear Laufey's voice commanding his army.

“ _ODIN!_ Come and face me yourself, coward!”

As if her wish had summoned Laufey into existence downstairs, Hela heard the Jotun king roar his challenge for the realm to hear. Everything in her wanted to run down there and join him, to defeat her father by his side, but she knew Laufey would want her to be safe and protect their child, so she braced her feet on the floor and gave the door one last shove to open it enough for her to get inside. Just before it shut behind her, Odin's words echoed through the hall.

“THEIR BLOOD IS ON YOUR HANDS, HELA!”

Hela turned and engaged the lock on the door, a simple metal barricade that slid across the door and into the frame to keep anyone from pulling it open. Simple, but effective.

Time to get busy, she thought, and crossed the room to the emergency cradle situated in the corner. Laufey had ensured he had stocked it with furs just in case. The small room shook and Hela could just barely hear the struggle between Laufey and Odin. Metal clashed with metal and every few seconds there was another guttural scream. The urge to push was becoming overwhelming, and a small pool of blood was forming at her feet. There was no more time.

Hela took one of the furs out of the cradle and placed it on the floor between her feet, squatting over it and gripping tightly with one hand to the only chair in the room for leverage and balance. She closed her eyes, waiting for the next contraction to start and trying to ignore the sounds of battle drifting through the walls to her. Come on, Hela, she told herself, time to be strong. Counting down from three, Hela took a deep breath, clenched her teeth, and bore down, pushing as hard as she could.

The pain was like nothing that had come before. It was as if the child was tearing her open from inside her body, and Hela nearly lost her balance again trying to compensate for it. She pushed until she reached the count of ten, just like she had read, and stopped to take a breath. When she opened her eyes she saw stars dancing in her vision. There was no time to rest, as the next contraction began just a moment later and Hela had to push again. Through her tears of pain she pushed even harder, forcing herself to not give up, and finally she felt the baby slide down into her birth canal with help from gravity. She reached down with her free hand to feel for her child with her fingers and nearly wept with joy when her fingertips touched a head full of slick hair, still stuck two or three inches inside of her.

That one touch worked like magic, renewing her sense of determination, and Hela took another deep breath to prepare herself for the next push. Once again she bore down, her hand beneath her to feel when the baby's head breached the surface. She stopped right at that moment to breathe through the intense burning in her pelvic floor. Fear of being torn open made her sit idle through another contraction to gather her nerve. Then an anguished scream from Laufey shot adrenaline into her veins and Hela readied herself for the final push.

_Do it for Laufey._

No longer caring about whether she screamed, Hela pushed with every bit of strength she had left, until finally her baby's head popped out into the open air. She stroked the wet hair with her hand and pushed down lightly again, supporting the baby's neck and head, until the shoulders came out, the rest of the body sliding out easily with a rush of thin, blood-tinged fluid.

Hela let the baby down gently onto the furs and sat down on the floor to examine him. The Prince was Jotun all the way through, with dark blue skin and unique markings, and he had her black hair. He had not taken a breath yet and was not moving.

Gathering the limp baby into the bundle of fur, she took him in her arms and used her mouth to cover his nose and suction the tiny bit of mucus out, rubbing the bottoms of his feet with her thumb. When that didn't work, Hela flicked her wrist and conjured a small dagger, using the sharp blade to cut through the umbilical cord. A tiny flash of seidr cauterized the end of the stump of cord protruding from the baby's navel. After an agonizing minute that felt like an eternity, the baby started to move his limbs around, and at last he took in his first breath and cried quietly. He opened his blood red eyes and Hela began to sob openly, her gasps of relief shaking her entire body. She slid her finger into his open palm and he grasped it tightly.

“Loptr,” she whispered, a tear falling onto the baby's belly, “I love you so much.” The baby heard her voice and turned his head toward her, searching for food. Hela was about to pull the front of her gown down to feed him, until Odin's voice bellowed from nearly right outside the door.

“I killed him, Hela! Your precious kingdom and its king are all dead because of you! I know you're in there!”

Hela’s heart pounded frantically in her chest. All that she had done, leaving her father to marry Laufey, conceiving his heir, nearly uprooting the foundation of Asgard's monarchy… all of it was for naught if Laufey really was dead. She gazed down at the child in her arms, now disinterested and falling asleep, and knew that if she was going to die at the hands of Odin, she wasn't going to make it easy for him.

Wrapping little Loptr tight in the furs, and thanking Laufey's forward thinking that there were no windows and plenty of shadows in this safe room, Hela kissed her baby son on his forehead and used her shadow power to transport him to the safety of the temple where the Casket of Ancient Winters was kept. It fatigued her already-exhausted body, and she swayed a little when she used the chair to help her stand. The floor beneath where she was sitting was saturated with her blood, and she still had yet to deliver the placenta, so she was still having mild contractions. _I'm going down with a fight,_ Hela thought, _and it may not be a long one but it will be an honorable one._

The barricaded door cracked around the frame and Hela assumed Odin was trying to use Gungnir to blast the door down. A second blast took the door from the wall, breaking the lock, and it hit the floor with a thunderous crash. Hela did not run, but instead summoned a great necrosword and flung it at her father. It nearly took Odin's head off, and he dodged it just in time for one of the jagged curves to catch the side of his face as he turned sideways. Before Odin could retaliate Hela threw another sword, but could not aim as well, and she stumbled over her own feet and fell over. The sword threw sparks as it glanced off of the Allfather's chest armor. Hela was so depleted of energy that she could not get back up off of the floor. Odin aimed the golden spear at her and she closed her eyes, thinking of her baby, waiting for her father to kill her.

Odin spoke again, soft and serious, and Hela opened her eyes, stunned momentarily to see that her sword had claimed one of his eyes. “My father,” he said slowly, “always said there were fates worse than death. None of them are good enough for you. Hela Odinsdottir, Princess of Asgard, Goddess of Death, the punishment for your treason is to be locked away to rot, stripped of your power, until the event of my death, after which you will be released, no more powerful or royal than a mortal. You are responsible for the death of the Frost Giants. Your soul will never set foot in Valhalla, and you will never see your son again.” He paused to wipe the blood dripping from his wounded eye. “I hope it was worth it.”

Hela no longer had it in her to fight him. She held tightly to her brief memory of Loptr and hoped he would be found by one of the small villages when one of their people came to the temple. Odin held up his hand and spoke a few arcane words, surrounding her with a golden light, and she was gone.


	3. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laufey isn't dead, but he wishes he was.

Blackness, then pained, shallow breathing, harsh and loud and vital.

 _Who is breathing like that, right in my ear?_ Laufey kept his eyes shut and listened. _Oh, it's me. I'm breathing. I must still be alive._ He focused on the beating of his heart, slow but steady, pounding out the defiance of his death which had him in its grasp only seconds ago. Slowly Laufey opened his eyes and blinked to focus his blurry vision. He tried to twist his body and sit up, but the sharp pain from the nearly-fatal wound in his side caught his breath and forced him back down.

Each breath he struggled to take renewed the memory of Odin's spear piercing his left side, just beneath his ribs, the Allfather’s eyes full of self-righteous hate as Laufey was lifted from the ground on the end of the spear and thrown across the room. He had landed on his back, barely clinging to consciousness, left to die.

_I swear on my son's life that if something happened to them, if he so much as looked at them, I will hunt him down and slay him where he stands._

Laufey gingerly touched the wound with the tips of his fingers and winced, making fresh blood drip out of him onto the puddle on the floor. He felt weak but the adrenaline coursing through his veins was slowly reviving his energy.

_Hela._

Fear gripped his heart; fear for his wife and son, fear for his people. Surely, judging by the silence in the castle, Odin had already done what he had come to do and left.

Laufey remembered the plan he and Hela had come up with in case of a castle siege, the panic room full of shadows, giving him a small glimmer of hope that perhaps not all was lost.

_She may be hiding there, maybe she's already given birth._

Now that he was able to sit up, Laufey crawled backwards until his back hit the wall, then slid up using his feet to push himself upright. The effort made him sweat, the liquid freezing into a fine layer of frost on his forehead and neck. Holding one hand over his open wound he limped over to the stairs and took them as fast as he could. Once he reached the top of the staircase, he nearly fell over when he saw the massive hole in the wall where the door had been destroyed.

_If Hela is in there, dead, I don't want to see it. I would sooner lie on this frozen floor and die of my wounds._

Laufey knew it was pointless to check the panic room, so instead he turned around and went back down the staircase. What energy he had was quickly depleting, the longer he remained on his feet, and there was no time to waste. There was a secret pathway beneath the castle that led to the temple, a sanctuary where Laufey still managed to convince himself his wife and son may be. He placed his hand on the wall where the obscured doorway, fashioned by Hela from their combined magic, led into a tunnel burrowed deep beneath his feet.

It felt like hours passed while Laufey trudged slowly and carefully through the tunnel of ice, but his experience knew it only took a minute or so to reach the trap door in the temple. When he finally reached it, he was so weakened that he couldn't raise his arm to push up the door, and he had to fashion a spear of ice in his hand to push it up. He could hear footsteps above him and his heart leapt at the thought that perhaps some of his people still lived - until he heard the harsh commanding voice of Odin's Hersir barking out orders to his men. Using his ice spear Laufey climbed out of the tunnel and hid behind a pillar to watch Odin's soldiers. He had to fight the urge to throw the spear when he heard Odin himself come in.

“The Casket must be here somewhere!”

Laufey was consumed with rage, but there was no realistic way he could possibly take every one of the Einherjar and Odin down in his state. He would be lucky to simply not bleed to death here in the temple. He looked around desperately, searching for any sign of Hela or Loptr, then closed his eyes to try and sense them.

_There's something in the corner, near the Casket._

An odd energy signature came from where Laufey knew the Casket was hidden, one that felt like Hela’s but much weaker. His stomach lurched and he had to kneel on the ice when he realized what it was; his newborn son, safe with the Casket, likely drawing strength from it as all Jotuns did.

But the baby was too far away, and Laufey couldn't cross the temple without exposing himself to attack. All he could do at this point was wait and hope the Asgardians would give up the search.

Laufey couldn't make out what all of the soldiers were saying. He should have remembered that when Odin wanted something, he never stopped until he had his hands on it. His blood ran cold when he heard one of them opening the hidden door that revealed the Casket - and the child inside.

.-

Odin entered the temple followed by several Einherjar, and commanded them to secure and search the place.

“The Casket must be here somewhere!” Odin’s voice boomed and echoed on the stone hall.

Sure enough, behind the altar, one of the Einherjar found a concealed door that opened to a small space underneath. A blue light shone as soon as the soldiers moved the stone, but it wasn’t the only thing there.

“My king!” The man shouted.

Before Odin could reach the soldier he heard it. Small infant cries filled the hall.

“Oh, no…” Odin muttered to himself.

In between the bundle of furs, there was a boy. The creature’s skin was blue, with the signature markings of the Jotnar. But his hair, raven black, gave away his hybrid nature. Odin recognized Hela in the child’s features, never mind how bloated he still was.

Odin’s hands started shaking. This was it, his opportunity to end everything. But he was surrounded by his men. Men that had already survived a bloody battle. How would he explain killing this innocent newborn? It was one thing to kill soldiers and enemies. But a child? An innocent child? Asgard would never forgive him.

_If Laufey is dead and I raise this boy in Asgard, a day might come when I can make him reclaim his throne, under my command and counsel._

“Give him to me.” Odin said, taking the baby from the einheri. “We cannot leave this child here to die.”

“He’s quite small for a giant offspring.” The same einheri observed.

“That might be the reason why he was left here,” Odin lied: he knew Hela had managed to teleport him here. He was surprised to realize his daughter was capable of feeling love after all.

The infant must have felt something from Odin too, as his red eyes slowly flickered to blue, and then back to red. He started crying again, startled by the noise the Einherjar made at getting the casket from its resting place.

“My king.” The soldier bowed, presenting Odin with the Casket Of Ancient Winters.

“Let us leave this place.” Odin ordered. No one dared to ask about the boy still crying in the bundle of furs.

After a short walk, Odin reunited with his army and summoned the bifrost. He and his Hersir saw all the Einherjar return to Asgard and, only then, they stepped in.

Odin was the last to arrive back, and as it was custom, Frigga was there waiting for him, little Thor holding her hand. He promptly instructed his Hersir to store the casket in the vaults.

The Queen stared at her husband, and the bundle in his arms, waiting for Odin to explain. The king found himself at a loss of words.

“Loptr.” Heimdall said, breaking the heavy silence. “That is the name his mother chose for him.”

“Hela’s boy?” Frigga asked. Odin nodded.

“She had already given birth when I arrived, I found him on the temple.” Odin explained. “I couldn’t--”

Thor looked curiously at his parents, intrigued by the sound of the baby crying. “Lopi?” He said in his toddler voice, trying to copy what Heimdall had said. “Lopi!” He jumped up and down trying to get a better look, maybe imagining his father had brought something for him.

Odin didn’t know what to do. Frigga looked at the still blue baby and put her hand on his head. Slowly, the icy cerulean turned to pale aesir skin, and his eyes went from red to blue. Then she took the baby from Odin and gave him her finger to suck on.

“Poor boy, you’re starved.” She said. “I will have a wetnurse on the palace as soon a possible.”

Odin couldn’t help to flinch at the thought. But he saw in Frigga’s eyes that anything he were to argue wouldn’t deter her. Frigga’s mind was made the second she saw the creature.

“Mama? Lopi?” Thor said again, pulling on his mother’s robes.

Knowing Odin wouldn’t be so keen on keeping the boy’s original name, Thor’s mispronouncing it gave Frigga an idea. With a smile, she lowered the baby for Thor to see.

“Yes, my son. Loki. Your brother.”


	4. Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: CHILD ABUSE  
> If you didn't have enough reasons to hate Odin, now you will want to poke him repeatedly with a searing iron.
> 
> Loki is around 6-7 human years in this chapter.

In the relatively short period of time that he had been alive, Prince Loki of Asgard, younger brother of Prince Thor and son to Odin Allfather and Frigga Allmother, knew more certainly than anything else that his father hated him.

Ever since he was a little boy, he had noticed how his father would look at Thor and smile. When that smile was extended to him, there was no warmth. Where Thor would get praises and rewards, he would get blank looks and sharp criticism.

No matter what Loki did, Thor had done it before and of course, he had done better.

Being a small kid, Loki didn’t know what to do to gain his father attention or affection. And that meant he sometimes would have outbursts of remanent magic he had no control over.

It infuriated Odin to no end everytime Loki summoned small obsidian needles, or froze his dinner. He had come very close to actually strike him. Violent shakes and bruising grips were almost everyday occurrences for Loki.

Odin tried hard to control his temper, but everything Loki did just reminded him of Hela. More than once Odin questioned his decision to let the boy live.

It didn’t help that Loki was the constant subject of every fight Odin had with Frigga. Her soft and nurturing nature couldn’t understand Odin’s need to completely obliterate Loki’s heritage through violence. But Odin knew no other way. It was clear that he didn’t even want to try and change, as it was clear that he didn’t feel any love for the boy.

Loki was the living evidence of everything Odin did wrong. How could he love him? He was the hybrid of a monster and a traitor! His very existence was a mistake!

Thor being the spoiled older child didn’t help either. He would blame everything on Loki, realizing his father would believe him without a second thought, and would punish Loki severely. Frigga wasn’t as gullible. More than once she disciplined her eldest harshly, not only for messing things up, but also for lying. But he still got away with many things.

To be fair, it was Thor who had started it.

Loki wasn’t allowed to spend much time in the sun. For reasons he didn’t understand, the heat gave him terrible headaches, and once or twice he had even passed out because of it. Hot afternoons were for him to spend inside the castle, where Frigga could control the temperature of his rooms. His mother filled his chambers with games and toys and books, to keep him distracted while his brother and friends enjoyed the pond in the gardens.

Thor thought it would be a great prank, and a source of amusement for his friends, if he lured Loki out.

He started throwing small rocks at Loki’s window.

“What do you want, Thor?” A less than amused Loki peered through the glass.

“C’mon out, Loki!” Thor shouted.

“You know I can’t go out.” Loki said with disdain.

“Just for a little while! Nothing is going to happen to you! The boys are here and it’s not that hot!”

“Mother won’t like it.” Loki added with a slight pout.

“Aww, you’re scared mommy will punish you for it?” Thor mocked Loki, making a baby voice and pretending to cry.

Loki’s nose flared. “I am not a momma’s boy!” He said defiantly and climbed out the window, shedding most of his clothes.

In no time, Loki was down, chasing after his brother on the way to the pond. That little effort under the scorching sun was enough to get Loki panting. But as soon as he saw his brother’s friends, he tried to hide it. He pretended to be fine for as long as he could, but the heat got the best of him.

“You don’t look so good, Loki.” Thor said, with a vicious tone Loki didn’t catch.

Loki’s ears were buzzing. His sight was going blurry. He could hear laughter, but they felt far far away. His breath picked up. His head was spinning.

_Water…_

Loki stumbled on his way to the pond, still hearing the roars of laughter.

_Water… cold… please…_

He felt faint, but he managed to reach the pond and submerge in it. The water wasn’t as cold as he would’ve wanted.

_Cold…_

Suddenly, everything around him grew colder, bringing some small relief. He was still a bit faint, but at least his head stopped throbbing. He came back up for air, just to be greeted by the stunned faces of Thor and his friends.

“Father!” Thor yelled, nearly in panic. “Father!”

Loki didn’t understand what was the fuss was all about. Not until Odin got to the pond and had to break through heavy ice to retrieve him.

“What have you done, Loki?!” Odin was furious. “What--? How?”

Odin took Loki by his collar and dragged him out of the ice. Loki was too scared to say anything. Had he frozen the water? That wasn’t possible!

“Call for Queen Frigga, now.” Odin barked to one of the maids, who ran immediately back to the palace. “Thor, go back to your chambers and stay there! Everyone else, LEAVE!”

No one batted an eye or gave the king a second look. Not even Thor, who desperately wanted to know what was wrong with Loki, and couldn’t take his eyes of the frozen pool. Loki was shaking in fear, his soaked clothes were clinging to his skin. A soft layer of frost covered his wet hair.

“ _WHY DID YOU DO THIS?_ ” Odin bellowed. “Is this some kind of jest? A joke? Are you trying to humiliate me?”

Loki couldn’t answer. Silent tears ran down his face as he cowered away from his father. Why would his father think he did this to spite him?

Odin grabbed him by the shoulders. “Stop crying and answer me! How did you do _that_?” He snarled, giving Loki a violent shake. It made Loki’s teeth clash and his neck crack. “Do you want _me_ to get some answer out of you, boy?” Odin was seeing red. Without really thinking about it, raised his hand ready to strike the tiny kid in front of him.

“ _ODIN!_ ” Frigga shouted, snapping both Loki and Odin back to reality.

Loki ran to his mother and hid between her robes, shaking and crying uncontrollably. Odin composed himself, but made no attempt to apologize. He gestured toward the pool.

Frigga rolled her eyes and with a small wave of her hand the pond started melting. It did nothing calm Odin down.

“Frost magic _again_.” Odin muttered.

Frigga didn’t want to say anything about it in front of Loki, so she ignored the King.

“Loki, why were you outside?” The Queen knelt in front of Loki and took his hands, realizing the tips of his fingers were slightly blue. She used her magic to warm them and make the blue fade out. “You know you can’t be in the sun.”

“Th-Thor was--” Loki swallowed, and looked at Odin. “Thor was in the pond and I wanted to come too.” He was saying half the truth, but Frigga could read in between the lines.

Thor was in for a severe punishment.

“And then what happened?” She asked softly, slowly melting the frost from Loki’s body.

Loki sobbed and told Frigga how he felt bad and went into the pool to cool off. Odin paced up and down listening to the story, he tried to regain some calm, but it was impossible. He even scowled at Frigga when she wiped Loki’s tears and ushered him inside. She walked him halfway to the corridors, then came back. Odin was still there, pacing. The pond had already melted off and there was no sign of ice in the gardens.

“Odin, for the norns’ sake! You can’t keep losing your temper like that over every little thing he does!” Frigga reproached him.

“If I have to whip those freaks out of him, then I will!” Odin scowled. “One thing is freezing soup pots, but a whole pond?!”

“He cannot control it!!” Frigga tried to reason with Odin, unsuccessfully. “It’s not his fault!”

“I don’t care! This cannot continue!”

Frigga sighed. “Fine. I will teach him then.”

“No! He’s a prince, he shouldn’t be learning seidr.” Odin stated.

“You can’t whip it out of him! It’s better if at least he learns how to control it!” She said. Odin groaned, unwilling to give in. “He’s not Thor! No matter what you do, he’s never going to be!”

“People will talk…” Odin muttered. He couldn’t shake the feeling people would _know_ what he had done, what Loki really was, if he let him have full control of his powers.

“And you clearly care more about appearances that you care about him!” Frigga said. Her tone didn’t leave room for Odin to retaliate, and the queen left the gardens.

Unbeknownst to both, Loki was crouched on the top floor balcony, listening to every word Frigga and Odin were saying.

Yes. It was clear as day for the little prince of Asgard that his father hated him.

 


	5. Unworthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Bullying, Child Abuse and Suicide Attempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki is around 12-14 human years in this chapter.

Despite Odin’s reservations, Frigga’s plan worked perfectly.

Loki was finally able to understand that whatever was “wrong” with him, wasn’t actually wrong. For the first time in his life he had something that belonged only to him. With his mother’s guidance, the little prince of Asgard quickly learned how to control his powers and his inheritance.

It was a slow process, not without problems.  
As Odin had predicted, people talked. Asgard, as Odin himself, expected the younger heir to be just like his brother: adept with weapons, strong and athletic, another image of a righteous god. Seidr was a woman's craft, not for a Prince.

But Loki was none of that. He was a born sorcerer, and training proved that he was better adapted to smaller, lighter weapons. Broadswords and axes were too heavy and bulky for his lean build. Daggers and short swords were more his type and style.

As usual, Odin opposed to Loki’s weapons of choice, as he opposed to basically everything about Loki. His magic, his weapons, his studies, his books. Even the color of his clothes had been an issue. _Green? Really? Could he mock me any further?_

At least, this time, Odin kept it to himself, after he saw Loki become quite skilled at handling knives.

Thor also got out of Loki’s hair. After the pond incident, he was grounded for months. Frigga made sure Thor knew he had almost killed his brother that day. The boys’ relationship never fully recovered. Thor would play and train with Loki, be nice to him and pretend they were friends at family dinners and social events. But afterwards, Thor would leave with his friends and Loki would find solace in the library.

Loki also learned the hard way that he wasn’t welcome to join in his brother’s revels, even on the rare occasion that he wanted to.

When the day finally came that Thor had proven himself worthy to wield the legendary hammer Mjölnir, the castle celebrated with a lavish party. Of course it was a day to honour the heir to Asgard’s throne, if he was going to grow to be a mighty king with an unstoppable weapon. Never mind that the Prince in question was still a boy, in Aesir standards, and would likely not inherit the throne for several more centuries at least. To earn a weapon such as Mjölnir meant that Thor was on the right path.

Loki had genuinely felt happy for his brother, despite the aching jealousy gnawing at the pit of his stomach each time Thor would show off his strength by tossing Mjölnir in the air and summoning it back to his hand with ease. Despite his better judgment, Loki had decided to show his support to please his parents, and had stood beside Thor while he talked to his friends and enjoyed being the center of attention as usual. A group of at least a dozen of their peers had gathered around them to watch Thor retell the story of him finally being able to lift the hammer as if it was tale as old and as mythical as the Norns and not something that happened less than a week before.

As Thor retold the story yet again for a fresh group of blushing girls, Loki's mind wandered to the discovery of his own unworthiness, mere moments before Thor had lifted the hammer. The two had descended to the vault following an argument about who was stronger, where Loki had tried everything he knew (which, granted, was not much yet) to try to pick it up, and had watched with horror as Thor pushed past him, boasting about his power, and raised the hammer above his head as though it had weighed nothing. Loki was grateful that at least Thor had decided to leave out that part of the story. But just seeing the hammer now, Thor twirling it around by the strap like it was made of air, was a reminder, was proof, of everything he had believed about himself for most of his young life.

He was weak. He was less.

He was unworthy.

“Come, Loki, why don't you try to lift it?” Fandral’s arrogant voice interrupted Loki's mental spiral and Loki looked to the young boy's handsome face, unamused.

“It is obvious to all, except perhaps you, it seems, that I cannot,” Loki reminded him dryly. “Neither can you, for that matter.”

Loki's words did not deter Fandral. “Come on, I want to see you try! It'll be fun!” He was joined by several other people egging him on. One boy even insulted Loki's integrity by saying if he was a true prince then he should be able to lift it too. Loki didn't want to engage with these ill-mannered courtiers, but he could see his father watching from his seat on the throne, so he sighed and mumbled, “Fine.”

Thor furrowed his eyebrows at his brother, an unspoken question - _Are you sure?_ Loki nodded briefly, holding out his hand. Thor shrugged his shoulders - _all right then, your choice_ \- and held out the handle for Loki to grasp. The instant Thor released his grip, the hammer dropped to the floor with a deafening crash, crushing Loki's foot beneath it.

Loki's scream echoed around the throne room, followed by laughter rippling through the crowd. Thor stood there, paralyzed with fear until Frigga burst through the throng and knelt next to Loki. The Queen tried unsuccessfully to get the hammer off of Loki’s foot. She snapped her fingers at her elder son.

“Thor! The hammer!”

The elder Prince shook his head and lifted the hammer, making Loki howl in fresh pain again. Tears poured down his face and embarrassment flushed his face bright red as he watched everyone - even Odin - laughing at his mistake.

Everyone, Loki realized, save for Thor, with his unreadable expression set like stone.

The Queen called for a guard to carry Loki to the Healers, as this was one injury that needed tending to by someone more experienced. She trailed close behind the Einherjar, holding Loki's hand, and stared daggers at the people still watching with a smile on their faces.

“Shame on all of you,” she scolded them. “The Prince only wants to be included, and this is how you repay him.”

In Eir’s capable hands, Loki was set to rights in no time, but his foot still ached for weeks after. The scene in the throne room kept playing in his head on repeat, as though to torture him. Every pulse of pain in his foot was like a mantra: _Unworthy. Unworthy. Unworthy._

Loki resorted to keep away from Thor and his friends ever since. He dived head first into his studies. Magic was hard and demanding: the perfect getaway from life itself. He still had to endure a few hours of weapon training 3 times a week. Most of the time, he was able to train by himself or with common soldiers.

Other times, the weapons master insisted he should train with Thor. Not wanting to anger his father, Loki did his best to hold his own against his brother. But deep inside he was terrified. He just wished to finish as fast as possible, leave and avoid Thor’s friends before they could get to him. Loki’s nightmares were full of what they did to him when he failed to escape.

.-

As she did every quarter moon, Frigga walked into her studio, carrying several books in her arms. It was nearly time for Loki’s lessons, and she had found some things in the library she thought he might enjoy.

The door was slightly open when she arrived. It wasn’t like Loki to show up on time, let alone before she did. Her questions were answered the moments she heard Odin’s booming voice.

“ _How?_ How did you do that?”

“I-I don’t know!” Loki said.

“Well, you better get knowing real fast, boy! How can you _not know_ that you stabbed one of your friends!”

“He’s not my friend. He’s Thor’s friend!” Loki snarled. “That’s why you care so much… you don’t care about me at all!!”

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!” Odin towered over Loki. “I am your father and I am your king!”

“As if you act like it!” He said defiantly.

Odin wasn’t going to stand for Loki disrespecting him. _Just like Hela_. With a rapid swing, Odin smacked Loki with the back of his hand and sent him flying to the floor. Loki looked up to his father in disbelief, too stunned to say anything. His eyes were shining with tears, but he willed himself not to cry.

“ODIN!” Frigga said, dropping all the books she was carrying.

Odin was furious. Loki shook violently, one hand trying to hide a growing bruise on his left eye, his other hand hovering over where Odin struck him. A bloody dagger lay on the floor by his side: gleaming obsidian metal shone in the golden light, sharp and cold.

Frigga went to her son and took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. “Loki, tell me what happened.”

“They were making--” Loki swallowed hard and looked at his father. He didn’t want to admit they were bullying him. “They said things I don’t agree with.”

He closed his eyes and saw them making fun of him for being skinny, and weak. For wielding magic instead of weapons. For all the things Thor was and he wasn’t. He saw them pushing him to the wall. He felt their punches on his stomach, their fist on his face. He saw Thor a few feet away doing nothing.

“So you decided to stab them?” Odin said, snapping Loki out of his head.

“Only after they gave me this!” Loki yelled, pointing at his black eye. “I don’t even know-”

“How did you conjure the dagger, Loki?” Frigga said softly.

“I don’t know.” Loki muttered. “I just wished I had it and I did.” He looked at the dagger on the floor.

Frigga glared at the king. “I will take it from here, Odin,” she said as calmly as she could. Her tone, though, left no room for Odin to argue. He left.

Loki took the dagger and gripped it tight in his hand. “Why does he hate me so?”

“Your father doesn’t know better.” Frigga said, pulling Loki up, and made him sit on the couch.

“Everything I do is always wrong, he always finds a reason to reproach me.” Loki started shaking again, feeling the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. “Nothing I ever do is fine by him.” Against his will, he started crying, but tried his best not to let it show. Frigga still noticed. “He doesn’t care I was being beaten.”

“You _what_?” Frigga said, suddenly worried.

“The other kids…” Loki sniffled. “They- they-”

“Loki. Tell me exactly what is going on.”

Exhausted, angry, and frustrated, Loki broke down. He was still holding the dagger on his hand. Frigga noticed the soft layer of frost on top of it, and the frozen blood. Holding Loki’s wrist, she made him drop it before he saw it too. Loki wrapped his arms around his mother and hid his head in her shoulder, crying softly. Odin always said crying was for the weak, so Loki always fought against it. But now, wrapped in the warm embrace of his mother, he just gave up.

Loki told Frigga about the bullying, the verbal and physical abuse he was being subjected to. He told her of the beatings, the name calling, the jokes at his expense. Frigga just held him close until he was finished. Loki felt the tight knot in his throat had loosened a bit.

“… and then today, Fandral was all over me. I lost control. I don’t remember summoning the dagger, but it was there and I--”

“You defended yourself.”

“That’s not how father sees it.” Loki said, rolling his eyes.

“It is what it is.” Frigga reassured him. “No matter what your father says.”

She waited another moment, until she felt Loki had relaxed enough.

“Do you remember that day in the pond?” Frigga started. Loki just nodded, it wasn’t a pleasant memory. “Remember I told you that sometimes, a sorcerer who doesn’t know better might lose his temper? And therefore lose control over his seidr.” Frigga spoke softly, placing her hand on his, using magic to heal the cuts and bruises.

“You said I had some magic in me and that day it protected me from the heat.” Loki said softly, watching his wounds heal.

“This time is not different from that time. Seidr is meant to protect us. You were being attacked, and your magic reacted to it. Gave you a weapon so you could defend yourself.”

Loki looked at his mother, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “It makes sense… But-- I should be able to control it now. The pond thing - I was a little kid!”

“You still are a little kid.” Frigga said with a half smile, and Loki huffed. “You keep learning. Studying. Practising. You never stop learning with seidr.” Frigga explained. “You can use it as your weapon, or you can use it a shield.” As she spoke, Frigga made her own seidr conjure a small gold knife and then a golden bubble. “Seidr has many ways,” she added, making her hands glow green as she again used it to heal Loki’s wounds. His face felt warm and itchy, the swelling and the bruising fading slowly.

“Can you teach me how to do this? It will come handy,” Loki said with a sad chuckle.

Frigga felt her heart sink. “I will speak to your father about this.”

“He won’t do anything,” the boy mumbled, emotionless.

“You are still a prince.”

Loki pressed his lips together. “They are Thor’s friends, mother.”

The underlines of that phrase were clear. Frigga knew not to push it. Instead, she focused in getting the books for today’s lesson back in one piece.

“We weren’t supposed to start with teleporting and summoning for a few months, but I think you need to learn how to control it.” Frigga picked the black dagger from the floor and gave it to Loki. “Put it away.”

Loki looked at his mother, confused. “I don’t know--”

“Yes, you do. You called for it, you can dismiss it.” Frigga said.

Loki stared at the blade and concentrated. It took him several seconds, but the dagger disappeared in a green flash. It surprised him. “Where did it go?”

Frigga handed him a book. “This will tell you all you need to know about that. Go get some rest, we’ll discuss it next lesson.”

Loki smiled faintly while taking the book from his mother, and went to his room.  
While he was no longer showing the evidences of the beating he took that day, his body still felt it. He was sore and walking pained him. He needed to rest, shut his brain off.

Once in his chambers, he tried to read, but his muscles weren’t allowing him to find a comfortable position on the bed. He gave up and tried to sleep, but it was also proving difficult. After tossing around in bed for a couple of hours, he got up again.

“A bath could help…” He muttered to himself.

It was late. He didn’t want anyone coming to his chambers, so he locked all doors and got the bath ready himself. Once in the hot water, his body relaxed, but his mind didn’t.  
His tired brain started playing all that had happened during day. His skin was unblemished and clean, but the pain was still there, coursing through his system like poison.

Images flashed in front of his eyes, reminding him of other painful days. There were so many of them, Loki had trouble finding even a small moment of happiness. His head throbbed.

_If only I could make the pain stop._

He closed his eyes and concentrated. It took him a few tries, but he managed to conjure the black blade. He stared at it, wondering how such a small thing could elicit such a violent response from his father.

Loki felt tears burning in his eyes. No, it wasn’t the blade, it wasn’t his magic. _It was him_. Since he could remember, his father had hated _him_. No matter what he did… he was never going to be good enough. _For anyone._ Thor clearly didn’t give a shit about him either. He had witnessed first hand what his friends had done to him. Even if Thor hadn’t willingly taken part, his indifference hurt more than all the abuse.

As for the people of Asgard, he was just the spare: useless, disposable, discardable. _Unworthy._

An idea grew in his mind, dark as the obsidian blade in his hand. A parasitic thought, convincing him that it was the only way to end the pain. Drain it like venom from a wound. His mind was so tired that any attempt to fight the thought was pointless. He surrendered to the thought.

The cold metal felt like a relief in his flesh. The blood dropping to the water looked almost beautiful. Dark figures swirling in the dim light. Loki repeated the motion, drawing another slash on his forearm. The blood was now flowing freely, like his tears. He didn’t even feel the pain anymore.  
Loki did the same to his other wrist, cutting deeper.

Watching the blood pour out was cleansing.

_I just hope mother will forgive me._

Somehow, he had willed his body not to heal. The wounds on his arms itched and prickled, but remained open. Blood poured out to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Tears tickled the sides of his head as he stared at the ceiling.  
Loki felt faint. His ears were buzzing. His sight was blurry. His hands couldn’t hold the blade any longer, it made a sharp sound when it clattered on the floor. He was fading away. The pain would stop any time now.

_Mom?_


	6. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: SUICIDE ATTEMPT

_Hot. So hot._

Loki turned over onto his stomach in his sleep, one arm dangling over the side of the bed. He was drenched in sweat, his hair clinging to his face, his blanket long forgotten and kicked to the floor.

_“Thor, please! Where is Thor? Hogun, help me!”_

_Loki braced his feet against the tiled floor in the castle’s kitchen, shouting as loud as he could as Fandral and Volstagg held his arms tight in their grips, pushing him closer to the open door of the massive oven. In the middle of the night it was likely no one could hear him, but he had to try. His bare feet slid uselessly along the floor, which was slick with the water pouring off of him as the frost that formed on his skin to protect him melted instantly. It was too hot in here with the heat of the oven pouring out, and Loki was feeling weak and lightheaded from it. His heart racing, his breathing labored in the thick air, Loki was near to fainting._

_He looked over his shoulder to see Hogun, stone-faced and shaking with indecision. The boy was his only hope. “Hogun,” Loki pleaded desperately. “Hogun, please! Go get Thor! They’re going to kill me!” The young boy only looked away, and Loki began to beg for his life, tears streaming down his burning cheeks. Still Fandral and Volstagg dragged him closer to the fiery mouth of the oven, even as Loki pulled and thrashed with what strength he had left._

_Less than a meter away from the open oven, the heat turning his skin raw and red, Loki closed his eyes and began to quietly whisper the Norse Prayer for the Dead to himself._

_Lo, there do I see my father. Lo, there do I see my mother, and my -_

Loki awoke with a strangled gasp, taking the cold air of his chambers into his grateful lungs in deep breaths while his heart pounded in his chest. It was still dark in his room, the stars outside his window shining bright as though to mock him. Loki supposed it was not long after midnight. He turned his head to roll onto his back, and felt something scratching his neck and forehead.

_Not again._

Sure enough, when Loki observed his fingers after scraping the offending substance off of his neck, he saw frost. He blinked hard, tears rolling down his cheeks and freezing before they were able to fall. He thought he was past this, but he thought that every time.

The changes in his body were an elusive mystery, the books in the library providing more questions than answers. At least once a week now, Loki was experiencing these nightmares, waking from them covered in frost. Normal Asgardians didn’t go through this, he knew, and there was no way he could talk to his mother about it, much less his father. Frigga would not understand, and Odin would likely scoff at him for his ignorance, or berate him for his uncontrolled frost magic. He and Thor were as distant as strangers these days, almost enemies. No, Thor would not care. Loki sighed, defeated. He had never felt so alone as he had these past few decades, with no friends, a well-intentioned but misguided mother, a father who hated him, and a brother who would sooner watch him die than help him and would probably be happy if something happened to him.

Grunting with effort and fatigue, Loki rose from his bed and trudged toward his bathroom to fill the bathtub and melt this blasted frost before someone saw him. There was no telling what kind of disaster awaited him if a guard or someone else wandering around in the middle of the night saw him this way. His bathtub, a large copper basin long and deep enough to allow him to sink down in the water until only his head stuck out, was seeing more and more use like this lately, and Loki had had to cast a silencing spell over the room, as well as a spell to shield him from Heimdall’s prying eyes that he had learned on his own, so no one else could hear the pipes running and run to his mother like when he was a child.

Slowly Loki removed his nightclothes, draping them over the towel drying rack next to the tub. Now that he was awake, the frost was beginning to melt, but he still needed the comfort that a long soak in the hot water would bring. It was the only time he could tolerate being warm and the oils he used would help him calm down enough to go back to sleep.

The bathroom began to fill with steam as the tub filled up, the gentle fragrance of jasmine and lavender already making him feel a bit drowsy. He sat on the thick carpet next to the basin and leaned against the warming metal, his mind wandering to his dream.

Loki wished he could say his mind had fabricated the events in this dream, but that would be lying to himself, something he refused to do. He had narrowly escaped death that night as a child, and Fandral and Volstagg had played it off as a joke when Frigga came in to intervene. The Queen had ensured the boys received punishment, but since Odin hadn’t believed a word Loki said, it was barely more than a slap on the wrist. Loki had spent weeks after that holed up in his room, terrified to go anywhere near any of Thor’s friends. Later he had found out that Thor had claimed he had no idea of what they were planning, but Loki hadn’t believed him.

_Of course he knew. How could he not know? They always planned everything together. It is their goal in life to make me miserable._

With a deep sigh, Loki peered over the edge of the tub to see it was mostly full. He rose to his feet. His body felt awkward and disjointed, like he was growing tall faster than he could fill out like his brother. Loki climbed into the tub after turning the taps off, lowering himself into the water down to his neck, and rested his head against the back.

_I just want to feel something. Anything. The nine realms for a glimpse of happiness._

A sudden cold weight in Loki’s hand caught his attention. He raised his hand above the murky water and his heart skipped when he saw the familiar obsidian blade he was forbidden to use. The blade that started it all. He thought of the first time he used it on himself, the euphoric state it sent his mind to as he had started to fade away in this very bathtub. He had no scars from the incident, or any of the incidents after. Every time he had used this blade, Heimdall had seen him - he suspected his mother had asked the Gatekeeper to watch him at night - but it did not deter him, until Frigga had decided to bind his conjuring power for years until she could trust he would not do it again. Once Loki had come to the age of his adolescence, the Queen had lifted her magic, feeling that her son would now be too distracted by schooling and girls to think about hurting himself anymore.

It was as if the magic inside of him knew what he needed. Loki pushed the tip of the black blade to his opposite wrist without hesitation, watching a drop of blood form on his pale skin. Flooded with the familiar rush of endorphins, he almost didn’t notice the pounding on his bathroom door.

“Loki, I know what you’re doing in there! I’m coming in!”

_Thor?_

“Go away! Leave me!” Loki aimed the blade toward the door and sank lower into the water down to his nose, his bony knees poking out above the surface. He heard the distinct humming sound of Thor summoning his hammer, and only had a moment’s warning before Thor pounded it through the door. He reached his arm through the hole and twisted the knob on the inside to open the door, fuming in the doorway in his pajama pants with no shirt. Loki’s stomach lurched when he saw his brother’s muscular body and furious expression, and he dropped the blade.

“What do you want?” Loki spat at him. “You don’t care. None of you do. I’m naked, besides.”

“Loki, you don’t know the first thing about who actually cares about you. You’re coming with me. Now.”

Thor crossed the bathroom and grabbed Loki by the wrist, yanking him out of the water dripping wet and naked, and deposited him on the carpet. “Dry off and get dressed. I know you can do that with your magic. I’m not going anywhere.” He crossed his arms and stared down at Loki, who was trying to think of a biting retort to Thor’s demand.

Loki sighed. “Fine.” He waved his arm and he was instantly dry, clothed in his casual trousers and long sleeved shirt.

“Get up.”

Looking around for an escape, Loki used the lip of the tub to help himself up, but Thor grabbed the back of his tunic and pressed Mjolnir into his back before he could run away.

“Walk.”

“Where are we going?”

Thor paused. “Eir. Mother is already there. We need to talk.”

Tears hovered at the corners of Loki’s eyes as Thor led him through his room and out into the hallway. When Loki would try to slow down or change direction, Thor would simply push the hammer into his back and pull harder on the back of his shirt. Loki didn’t bother arguing. There was no point. Thor always got what he wanted.

Once the brothers reached the healers’ wing, Frigga was indeed waiting for them both, wringing her hands next to Odin, who appeared to be indifferent to the situation.

“Loki,” the Queen said gently, “I’m so glad you’re okay. Let Eir have a look at you. We need to have a discussion, and your father needs to know what has been going on.” She looked to Odin, who purposefully looked everywhere else except her. “Thor, go ahead and take him into the examining room.”

“Of course, mother.”

Thor pushed Loki through the doorway next to Frigga and Odin and slammed the door behind him. Loki stumbled when Thor released him, and he stared sheepishly at Eir.

“Sit,” she barked at him. “And take off your shirt.”

Loki looked up at Thor. “I’m not going anywhere,” Thor repeated, and crossed his arms. They could hear muffled arguing through the door, and Loki tried to divert attention to the noise, but Thor wouldn’t let him. “Ignore them. Explain.”

.-

“You  _can’t_  be serious. The boy is a Prince, at least he has been raised as one. He is supposed to be stronger than this.” Odin paced impatiently as Frigga relayed to him the story of all of Loki’s attempts at suicide, something he had blinded himself to over the years. He lowered his voice to an angry mumble. “Just like his mother, always trying to make himself the victim.”

“Odin, for shame!” Frigga frowned at him, curling her hands into fists. “He is still a boy, a confused and hurting boy who has wanted nothing more in this world than the love of his father, something you have refused him since day one!”

“I AM NOT-” Odin stopped himself from shouting his secret to the castle. “I am not his father,” he growled quietly, pushing Frigga against the wall with his hand on her shoulder.

The Queen, unafraid of Odin’s temper, leaned in closer to him. “You are his blood, Odin Allfather,” she said steadily, “and he looks up to you, whether you like it or not. You may not care whether he lives or dies, but I do. That boy in there,  _your grandson_ , I love him as my own son, so either you learn to care, or start looking for wife number three and say goodbye to your best and only chance at a decent heir.”

“You dare defy me? Loki’s outbursts will cost us dearly when the people start to talk about their weak Prince. The kingdom is better off without him.”

Even with the King pressing her against the wall, Frigga raised her arm and slapped him on his cheek. He blinked, temporarily stunned by her boldness. “You are his grandfather, you blithering old fool!” Her gaze unwavering, Frigga stared him down, daring him to retaliate. “If you were going to abuse him to the point of suicide, you might as well have killed him when you found him in Jotunheim!”

“Maybe I should have.”

“But you didn’t! Are you hoping he will do the job himself so your hands remain clean!? Odin, if Heimdall hadn’t warned us he couldn’t see Loki, if Thor hadn’t taken it upon himself to check on him…” Frigga shook her head, fighting back tears that filled her eyes as she imagined the possibilities of what could have happened that night. They could have easily been planning a funeral rather than an intervention.

Odin sighed angrily and backed away, turning away from her with his hands clasped behind his back. He needed a solution. Something to keep the secret,  _all the secrets_ , hidden. There was only one logical way out of this mess. Odin wasn’t keen to relinquish control, but it might bring some peace into his own household.

“I have an idea.”

.-

Once Eir was done with her exam, she left the two brothers alone to talk. Neither said a word for some time. The air was heavy with unspoken words, and both were too proud to breathe it.

Finally Thor spoke, if just to muffle the sound of their parents arguing. “I should have said something.”

Loki stared daggers at him. “When? Which time are you referring to,  _Thor_? When you saw Father was beginning to express his resentment and disdain for me? When your horrifically boorish friends tried to burn me to a crisp? When they locked me in the training pit to use me as target practice? When they nearly poisoned me with raw ale?” Loki’s voice raised with every sentence. “ _When?!_ ”

Thor looked to the floor, chagrined by the truth of Loki’s questions. “You’re right. I saw what was going on and never said anything because I didn’t want Father to treat me the same way.”

Loki began to pick at his fingernails, unsure what to say. It had been a long time since the two had talked about anything beneath the surface, and that had been only when they had to.

“I can’t… I can’t live like this, brother.” Loki’s voice was small. He stared at his fingers to avoid Thor as fresh tears pricked at his eyes. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had called Thor his brother. “This life, the pressure, I’m so different and I disappoint everyone, the harder I try. This life is a dance I can’t figure out the steps to. It’s going to kill me.”

.-

When the brothers emerged from the examination room, the King and Queen were waiting in the hall for them, serious expressions on their faces. Frigga rushed over to Loki and embraced him tightly. Loki hugged her back, unable to say anything yet. When she pulled away, Frigga took her younger son’s face in her slender hands.

“Loki, my dear, I know you’re in pain,” she began. “I also hope you know that I love you unconditionally and I want you to be happy.”

Loki looked over her shoulder at Odin, who was unable to look him in the eye. “You’re going to send me away, aren’t you?” he asked, frowning. “You hate me  _so much_  you can’t even have me around anymore?”

Frigga made Loki look at her. “It’s not like that, Loki. I know how unhappy you are here, at least what you let me see. There’s a school, a seidr school, in Alfheim. You show potential for more power than I am able to teach you to control. They can help you, and you will have a chance to be away from -” She pointedly didn’t finish that sentence, and glanced over her shoulder at Odin to make sure he knew what she had chosen not to say. “From the castle for a while. You can have some freedom to practice and hone your skills. Get some sunshine. It’s a lot cooler there in the summer. You can come visit here on breaks if you like, or we can come see you. Then when you’re ready, you can come back.”

Loki’s fatigued brain took a moment to catch up. He stared at Odin silently until he looked at him. “And what say you about this, father?”

Odin cleared his throat. “It’s… best for everyone involved right now,” he said, as if the words tasted sour.

Loki gave himself a minute to think about the prospect of leaving the castle with his title still intact. All these years he had feared Odin would send him away for never living up to his expectations, for being so weak, stripping him of his birthright and his position in society. This was beyond anything he had ever expected, and the thought of having freedom to learn, freedom to grow and not be forced to be something he wasn’t, away from the suffocating influence of his father’s hatred, was overwhelming to say the least. He sighed with relief.

“I’ll do it,” he said to Frigga, smiling weakly. She hugged him again, tighter this time. When they pulled apart, Thor replaced her, squeezing Loki in a bone-crunching embrace that made him wheeze.

Frigga declared it was high time for everyone to go back to bed, so the four of them parted to go to their rooms. At the corridor where the two brothers would normally go in opposite directions, Thor grabbed Loki’s arm and pulled him into his room.

“What are you doing, you great oaf? I want to go to sleep.” Loki moved to go to the door but Thor blocked him, smiling.

“You’re staying here tonight.”

“I’m not going to do anything, I’m too tired. Now move.”

Loki tried to push Thor out of the way but the boy - almost a man now - was a mountain of muscle. He raised his arms up in defeat. He didn’t have the energy to argue or use his magic to get past him.

“Fine,” he said for the second time that night. “You win. I don’t suppose you expect me to share a bed with you, do you?”

“Of course not. I can sleep anywhere.” Thor gestured to his lavishly plush lounging chair. “I’m going to sleep there. You don’t have to be alone, Loki. Everything is going to change now, you’ll see.”


	7. Hope

To Loki’s great surprise, Thor had been right. In the months leading to his departure many things did, in fact, change.

That night, despite being exhausted, Loki opened up to his brother. Once he started talking it was difficult to stop. It was as if a dam inside him had held back all of his struggles and all of his words for so many years, and now it was beginning to break. For the first time in forever, Loki felt he was being heard. He confided in his brother all the nights he had cried himself to sleep, trying to overcome the urge to self harm, as well as all the nights he didn’t succeed and ended up on the healers’ ward, beating himself up over his constant failure.

Thor listened patiently to Loki’s recounts of hiding in corridors and empty cupboards to get away from his friends. Of hiding the bruises from their parents, or making cheap excuses. Thor listened, it didn’t matter that half of what Loki was saying he already knew. He had been there when his friends planned to “prank” his little brother. He had been there when they carried out their plans. He had been there when the palace staff alerted Frigga, and had watched from a safe distance how Odin had dismissed and blamed Loki for everything. He had played ignorant to the scheming and had laughed about it afterwards, and Loki had paid the price.

Thor knew they were beyond apologies now. He had seen most of it and done nothing. Like their own father, Thor had blinded himself to Loki’s suffering. He had played it as harmless jokes when they were kids, and after that he just assumed Loki would just accept them. He hadn’t wanted to see how much damage and torment he was causing, was enabling.

That night, he had been with his parents when the Einheri came carrying Heimdall’s warning. Thor had to see for himself what his mother had told him a million times and he had refused to believe. The blood stained blade on the floor, the slash on Loki’s wrist, the pinkish water… Thor couldn’t lie to himself anymore.

He had to make amends before it cost Loki his life.

The first step was for Thor to have a serious discussion with his friends. They were confused by his request to leave Loki alone, as Thor would not reveal the true motives behind his change of attitude. Yet, it was easy to threaten them with telling the King about their treatment of a Prince of the Realm and expulsion from court.

The one time Fandral took Thor’s words lightly, he ended up being pinned down by Mjölnir for a few hours.

Loki caught on to what Thor was doing, but decided not to say anything. He was grateful that his brother was finally standing up for him. They trained more together, and shared ale after dinner. Thor even invited Loki to join him at the tavern, but wasn’t surprised when he declined.

The only thing that didn’t change was Odin. He was as dismissive of Loki as always. Despite his initial support, Loki knew his father wasn’t happy about him going to Alfheim. He suspected Odin was hesitant to surrender control over Loki’s life and was furious there was no other way to “fix” him. Odin’s attitude enraged Thor; how could he still treat Loki the way he did knowing what his indifference and constant disapproval caused?

Once or twice, Thor tried to talk to his father about it, but if Frigga didn’t get through Odin, Thor doubted he could.

.-

The first cold day of the season finally came. The sun was shining bright, but the wind coming from the mountains was chill. It marked the end of the hot season. And it meant Loki had to leave Asgard. He was animated by the prospect of studying seidr in an actual Sanctum. It was clear that his mother, as powerful as she was, couldn’t advance his education any further. But a sense of dread came along with it. He had been homeschooled for most of his life, and his social skills weren’t exactly advanced. The idea of sharing classes and spaces with other people as he developed a skill he barely understood himself was at least overwhelming.

Loki had never come in contact with the Elves of Alfheim before, so he studied their history and their customs as best as he could while preparing to leave. He learned King Frèyr was the current ruler, though he was Vanir by birth. Politics were obscure and some of the information was missing from the Asgard archives, but apparently the elves liked the King enough.

Odin and Frigga had invited the king to Asgard, to arrange Loki’s stay at the palace and his inclusion to the school. Frèyr came across as nice, light hearted and amenable. He had even praised Loki’s magic after Frigga made him do a small demonstration, as to explain why they needed him to go to Alfheim. It was clear to the King of the Elves that Loki’s potential exceeded the extensive but still limited seidr knowledge that the Queen possessed.

Loki knew he would be welcome at the palace in Alfheim. Getting accepted into the Sanctum was another matter, one he would have to tackle once he got there. But Frèyr still assured him that if he didn't get accepted, the regular teachers were just as good, and vastly superior than the Aesir ones anyway. Odin shifted uncomfortably at the claim, and Loki had to suppress a laugh. He could’ve sworn Frèyr winked at him.

During Loki’s preparations, the rift between himself and Thor began to heal. Loki knew things would never return to the way they were in the carefree days of their early childhood, before Thor’s pride and Loki’s fear changed everything, but the scar that formed in the wound in their brotherhood hurt less and less every day, and Loki believed one day it was possible they could be real brothers again. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Loki had hope of a brighter future.

.-

Loki trudged down the Bifrost bridge with Thor and their mother, silently. His head was a cornucopia of emotions. He felt sad, excited, happy, fearful, anxious, nervous… all at the same time. Frigga held his hand, offering a smile to calm him down.

“How aren’t you cold?” Thor asked, closing his cape around him to keep the chill out.

Loki shook his head and shrugged. “I _am_ cold, it just doesn’t bother me.”

“Well, everyone knows I am the hotter brother,” Thor said, with a playful smirk.

“That would only mean I am the cooler one,” Loki said plainly.

Thor laughed loudly, and slapped Loki hard on his back, making the younger brother huff and trip a little. Loki glared at him, with a hint of amusement behind it. They were nearing the Bifrost chambers, and could see Heimdall waiting for them at the gate.

“Your majesties,” he greeted them with a nod. “Alfheim is ready for your arrival, my prince.” Heimdall stepped aside and placed his large sword into the Bifrost heart. “I will let you say your goodbyes.”

“I am actually going to miss you, little bro,” Thor said. “I wish we had more time… that I had _made_ more time, for you.” He sighed deeply.

Loki smiled faintly. “I ain’t dying yet, Thor.”

It was meant as a joke, but Thor looked concerned anyway. Loki shook his head.

“I mean it. I ain’t dying yet,” Loki said more seriously.

Thor didn’t answer. Instead he gave his brother a tight hug, one of those that made Loki wheeze. Both brothers giggled. Loki turned to Frigga.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you?” Frigga asked, holding his hands.

“Yes, mother. I need to do this by myself.” Loki gave her hands a small squeeze. “King Frèyr will be waiting for me. I’ll be settled in the castle in no time and I promise I will write every full moon.”

Frigga smiled and looked up at him, cupping his face in her hands. “You’ve grown so much.” Loki was almost as tall as Thor now, all impossibly long limbs, taut muscles and lean build.

Loki hugged his mother tightly, burying his face in her shoulder.

“Why- why didn’t he come?” Loki muttered quietly before stepping back and looking at Frigga.

Thor let out a small groan, and Frigga glared at him.

“He’s... busy. Niflheim dwarves are complicated and temperamental,” she said with a faint smile.

Loki nodded in disappointment, but decided to let Frigga believe he accepted her lie.

“Where are your trunks?” Thor asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Why would I need trunks? I can summon my belongings once I get to the palace,” Loki said, as it was the most obvious thing in the nine realms.

“Right!” Thor said, shaking his head.

Loki stepped to the circular gateway and nodded to Heimdall. The massive sword chirred as it moved, lighting the Bifrost alive. Energy hummed and the chamber vibrated as the spire whirled into the right position. Loki smiled at Frigga and Thor one last time before the multicolored light swallowed him.

As fast as it started, the Bifrost came to a rest.

Frigga took a deep breath. She was still wringing her hands in a nervous habit, reciting a small prayer in her mind.

“Why are you making excuses for him?” Thor asked in a low tone, distracting Frigga from her thoughts. “You know what you said is not true, I know it’s not true. Loki knows it’s not true!” He stared hard at his mother. “One of these days your first instinct with Loki won’t be to lie to him.”

Frigga didn’t answer. Thor didn’t know how true his statement was.

.-

Loki arrived on Alfheim safely after a short ride on the Bifrost. The sight that greeted him was breathtaking: a massive forest of ancient trees like he had never seen in Asgard spread across the horizon, as far as the eye could see.

In the clearing where he landed was a circular structure made of white stones, with three trails leading out of it. A guard was stationed on each road, and one was accompanied by another guard and a young woman. Behind them, 3 horses awaited. They approached Loki.

“Prince Loki of Asgard,” the woman greeted him with a kind smile. “I am princess Sigyn of Alfheim.” She curtsied politely, a gesture Loki was unused to seeing from royalty. “I send regards from my father, King Frèyr. He is preoccupied at the moment and has sent me to bring you back to the castle.”

Loki bowed. “I wasn’t aware of King Frèyr having a daughter,” he said, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Asgard archives are… incomplete,” she said simply. Loki had the sensitivity of not asking more questions just yet. “May I inquire about your belongings?” she asked, looking around.

“Oh, I will summon them at the palace. I didn’t want to be carrying around everything.”

Sigyn looked slightly impressed. “My father spoke highly of your magic, I suppose he wasn’t bluffing.”

She made a gesture to the royal guard, and he got the horses ready.

“The ride through the forest is short, and leads right to the palace,” she said, signaling Loki to follow her. “We’ll get there in time for lunch. After that, my father has left a present for you in your chambers.”

“A present?” Loki asked, surprised.

“We are celebrating the Equinox this evening,” Sigyn informed him. “We know it’s not something you celebrate on Asgard, so Father wanted to make sure you had the proper attire.”

Loki was grateful for the gesture. Coming here was already more than he had ever expected, and being received so warmly by the King and his daughter was almost overwhelming.

They rode together, making small talk along the way. Loki asked her many questions about life in the palace and the Equinox festival. She explained how the change of season was important to the elves. The start of the cold season was the start of a new cycle of life. The trees would lose their green leaves, the fields would be harvested for the last time before the snow, the fish on the lakes would be mature enough to catch. It was a celebration of nature giving her last gifts to the land before she went to sleep.

“It was my mother’s favorite celebration, according to Father,” Sigyn finished with a warm smile.

“Was?” Loki asked cautiously.

“My mother passed when I was very little.” Sigyn explained. “I don’t remember much of her. I only know what Father tells me.”

“I am sorry.” Loki said.

“Don’t be.” Sigyn smiled again. “Queen Iwaldis of Alfheim was loved by everyone, and she is remembered fondly by my father and her people. After she passed, Father made sure I would never feel like something was missing.”

“Must be nice to have a loving father.” Loki said, lowering his gaze. Sigyn stared curiously.

“Your father doesn’t approve of magic, does he?” she guessed. “Well, he does look like someone who will rather punch a rock and break both hands in the process to prove a point, than be willing to just vanish it.” She rolled her eyes. Loki couldn’t help but snort with laughter, and Sigyn covered her mouth with her hand. “I am so sorry!” She looked slightly mortified, and apologized profusely. “My father always says my tongue will be my undoing.”

“It’s okay.” Loki said with a smile. “You are not wrong.”

Sigyn watched as Loki’s smile faded. She could see the sadness in his eyes.

“With Queen Frigga being of Vanir descent, one would think the Aesir would welcome more magic wielders into their life,” she offered.

“The Aesir have no problems with magic, as long as women are the ones wielding it,” Loki pointed out.

“How very backwards of them,” Sigyn muttered with disdain.

Loki knew he should be offended, but he laughed instead.

“If Father is right about you, you’ll do just fine here,” she assured him. “We have little time for brute force, mindless boasting, and big hammers.” She stressed the last word, eliciting a smirk from Loki.

The horses came to a stop, right outside a huge stone arch. Sigyn dismounted and Loki did too. The guard that had accompanied them led the horses on a lateral road toward a grand stable.

“Prince Loki of Asgard,” Sigyn said ceremoniously. “Welcome to the Palace of Alfheim.”


	8. Alfheim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfheim makes quite an impression on the young prince.

Once Loki recovered from the initial shock of seeing the palace in Alfheim’s capital, he looked around slowly to gain some sense of the land. Princess Sigyn politely gave him time to take it in, and she watched him in understanding silence, mildly amused by his bewildered expression.

Loki had never seen anything like it in his life, not even on his expeditions to other realms. Where Asgard was a monument to its conquests, covered in glittering (and stolen) gold and a city built on flattened land, Alfheim’s palace and rural sprawl were built  _ into _ the land, working with its natural flora and topography to inspire architecture that looked as natural in the environment as the trees and mountains. 

Thin pillars and a concave sloped roof as white and polished as bone sloped up to a grand spire in the center of the main chamber of the palace, the covered walkways circling around it boasting centuries-old stained glass; Loki could imagine the beautiful colors the glass would cast into the throne room when the sun was high. The stone walkway he and Sigyn had followed from the Bifrost landing site extended to the front door of the palace, forming more intricate patterns made of small and large stones the closer the pathway came to the palace itself. Loki pushed one of the stones beneath his leather boot and could feel how perfectly smooth it was, worn down like cobblestones by the thousands of travelers that came through here over the years.

Turning on his heels, Loki looked out to each side of the palace, taking special notice of the bridges that had been painstakingly fashioned over the process of what must have been centuries, out of the roots of the trees that grew in the wide river that cut through the land. The air was thick with the sound of the river’s gently churning waters and the calls of the native insects and fauna that lived in the surrounding forest. This close to the water, Loki noticed a considerable reduction in the ambient temperature which made his breath condense just a bit in the midday air; it was a welcome change after spending centuries in Asgard’s warmer climate. He suspected that the coming summer would be the mildest he had ever experienced, and perhaps he would be able to tolerate being outdoors. The thought made him smile.

Sigyn cleared her throat quietly. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Loki blinked, bringing his focus back to the matter at hand. “My apologies,” he murmured, distracted. “It’s just...wow.” He chuckled, chastising himself for gawking like a fool in front of the Princess.

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” she said, smiling softly. “But there’s plenty of time to see the grounds and the Sanctum later. For now we need to go in and see my father, and get you settled in before the festival.” Sigyn gestured with her head toward the palace doors and they moved on. As the pair approached, the dozen or so guards, some armed with longbows and others with spears as tall as they were, stood at attention until they saw the Princess, then they bowed low, and two opened the double doors for them.

Loki could hardly believe his eyes when they entered the palace - he had predicted accurately that the sun streaming through the painted glass windows turned light to art on the wooden floors and stone walls of the foyer and throne room. On the far end sat three thrones of equal size, fashioned out of sun-bleached driftwood from Alfheim’s many beaches, situated at the top of a wooden platform with four steps leading up to it. 

Seated in the center throne was the King of Alfheim himself. He was pointing around the room with animated excitement, directing the arrangement of decorations and placement of tables and seats for his guests visiting from other realms.

“Loki, my Prince, welcome to my humble Kingdom!” Frèyr stood and came down the steps with his arms held wide, and Sigyn embraced her father in a warm hug. Loki held out his hand in greeting and Frèyr took Loki’s in both of his, squeezing them tight. “I trust there have been no problems thus far?”

“Not at all,” Loki assured him. “Princess Sigyn was excellent company on the trip to the palace, and I was just admiring the architecture and the gardens before we came in.” He smiled and gestured widely around the room. “My home is grand, yes, but its grandeur is seated in its garishness. Asgard’s palace brags of its own wealth and success, but this… Alfheim’s beauty is unrivaled, Your Majesty.”

Frèyr bowed deeply to Loki in gratitude. “You flatter me, my Prince. I insist that you call me Frèyr while you stay with us; I may be the monarch of this realm but you are Prince of all of them. Please, follow me, and Sigyn and I will show you to your quarters so you can freshen up before the festival.” 

The King and princess led Loki through an adjoining corridor that stretched before the eye and almost appeared to be endless. Every few meters was another tall window that looked out to the castle grounds. The courtyard outside sloped down into the massive gardens, where the citizens were setting up preparations for the festival. There must have been thousands of people out there, putting up booths and tents, and assembling a large platform not unlike the one that housed the thrones in the front of the castle.  Each door they passed Sigyn pointed to and informed Loki what its purpose was -  _ the library is how big?? -  _ and about ten doors down Frèyr stopped to open a door made of a dark wood, its knob a polished gold apple. He stepped aside for Loki to go in.

Loki took a few steps into the room and was rendered temporarily speechless. It was decorated in lavish dark colors - his colors, black and green - and every stick of furniture looked as though its design had been plucked from his own mind. He turned on the spot slowly, admiring the way that even though the room was in dark colors, it was still warm and inviting. As his eyes explored the layout of the room, Loki noticed that the black color wasn’t a solid black; golden vines and leaves were painted everywhere in a way that was pleasing to the eye, trailing up the wall and draping on the wooden furniture like natural vines would. The bed was a four-poster with sheer black drapes and soft green bedding, and in the corner next to it was an empty bookshelf that went up to the tall ceiling, and a large desk and comfortable studying chair. A padded bay window looked out to the river, the sound of its gurgling current a continuous and soothing background noise that Loki much preferred over the silence of the castle in Asgard. That window, he guessed, would soon be his favorite reading spot.

“Did… did you put this together for me?” Loki asked quietly. 

Frèyr and Sigyn looked to each other and laughed. “Yes,” Frèyr admitted. “When I came back after speaking to you and the King and Queen a few months ago, I wanted to set up a space for you that was based on your style and the way you had already set up your own bedroom in Asgard. We wanted you to feel at home here.” He walked over to where Loki was frozen in the center of the bedroom and placed his hand on Loki’s shoulder. “The thing about this room, which you’ll discover soon enough, is that its design will reflect your needs. It’s complicated magic, a little something that Sigyn’s brilliant mother put together when she was young. Before we came in here it looked just like your old room, and I guess it knows now that you needed something that didn’t remind you of home. Was it right?” 

Loki lowered his eyes to the floor, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “I suppose it was,” he confessed. It wasn’t that he  _ missed  _ Asgard, exactly, it was just that he had never been away without his brother at the very least, and he thought that if this room still looked like his old one it would have been hard for him to adjust.

Sigyn, ever intuitive, decided to break the silence. “Father, why don’t we let Loki show us his skill? He informed me that he was going to use his magic to transport his things here all at once so he didn’t have to carry anything.”

Frèyr looked impressed. “That would be delightful to witness! I was wondering why you didn’t have any luggage. Go ahead, Your Majesty.” 

Loki blinked, momentarily stunned. He swallowed hard and nodded, taking a deep breath to focus. It was then that Loki felt the omnipresent thrum of magic that flowed through this realm like a heartbeat. He was able to gather his seidr to his hands more quickly and powerfully than usual, and when he waved his hand it took just a few seconds for his belongings to appear in the middle of the room in a flash of green. Loki was surprised to hear Frèyr and Sigyn applauding him. He turned to face them and they both wore wide smiles. Frèyr gave him a hug and clapped him on the back, and Loki couldn’t help but feel the warmth of pride blooming in his chest.

“Well done, Loki,” Frèyr praised. “I’m sure you’ll wow the scholars and professors when you audition to get into the Sanctum!” 

“Thank you, you are too kind,” Loki said modestly. He was used to receiving praise from his mother, but all he ever got from his father was indifference, so these compliments were more than he had expected from the simple trick.

“Well, my Prince, we will leave you to your things so you can get settled, and don’t forget that you have a surprise waiting for you on the desk. The festival will kick off in the evening hours, so that will give you time to put your things away and get dressed.” Sigyn clasped her hands in front of her and smiled warmly. “Come, father, let’s go down to the gardens and make sure everything is going as planned.” She reached her hand out to shake Loki’s, then linked her arm with Frèyr’s and they left down the hallway, chatting about that evening’s arrangements.

Loki was left to wonder about the festival itself, whether he would stand out in his black clothes among the commoners dressed in subdued earth tones of light green and beige. He wasn’t even sure what he would have to do, or what the festival would entail. Trying to figure out where to start, he remembered what the Princess had said, that there was a package for him on the desk. 

Sure enough, when he walked over to the desk there was a bundle wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. With fumbling fingers he unwrapped it and was taken back by the contents as he unfolded them and laid them out on the bed. It was a tunic, made of a thick but soft material in a forest green color, with vines and leaves embroidered along the sides up to the shoulders in light beige, and a pair of dark brown linen trousers. Loki assumed this was what he needed to wear for the Equinox. He left it on the bed for the time being and decided to focus on getting his things put up. Just as he prepared to put his piles of books away, he heard a soft knock at the door.

“Prince Loki?” said a soft female voice from out in the hall. 

Loki frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone else. He opened the door to see a young looking woman with long, dark hair and dark eyes wearing a plain green dress, holding a tray of food in her hands. She barely came up to his chest but she looked up at him with no fear. “My name is Gwyn,” she said, “and I’m going to be your handmaid while you’re here, if it pleases you.” 

“Er… it’s lovely to meet you, Gwyn, but I’m alright for now.” 

The maid tilted her head at him, confused. “You sure? You’ve got a lot of stuff to put away, I could help you with that. I’m supposed to get you dressed for the Equinox festival.” She gestured to the tray and lifted it for him to see. “And I brought your lunch.”

“Well, I suppose you can bring the tray in and set it down, but I think I can get everything put away on my own.”

“I insist.” Gwyn smiled and pushed past him to come into the room, and she sat the tray on his desk. Loki began to protest again but she held up her hand. “Trust me, Your Majesty, you’ll get this done a lot faster with some help. Besides, if I’m going to be your handmaid, I need to know where your things are so you don’t have to tell me.” She looked around at the dozens of books on the floor and the ornate design of the room. “You’re lucky you’re here, this room has a soul and it will help yours heal,” she said cryptically, looking Loki over as if she knew something he didn’t. 

Once Loki conceded to letting Gwyn help him, his room was finished in half the time it would have taken him to do it on his own. He found her to be pleasant company, and her stories of the kingdom’s traditions passed the time comfortably. After he ate his lunch, he joined her in putting away his clothes and books. Loki delighted in how impressed she was by his collection, especially the blank manuscripts he had filled with his own works, as well as incantations and runes he had learned. Just as the first colors of dusk began to touch the horizon, Gwyn put the last book on his shelf. 

“There,” she said proudly, and brushed her hands off together. “See? It’s okay to need help around here, Your Majesty.”

Loki smiled at her. He had a feeling that there was a lot more to Gwyn than met the eye. “Thank you for your help,” he said sincerely. “I think it’s time for me to get ready though. You can take the tray and leave me to freshen up and change my clothes.”

“Actually,” Gwyn explained, pointing to his bathroom door, “part of my duty is to make sure you have a bath and that I help you get dressed.”

“You… what?” Loki was astonished; he had not received, nor needed, assistance with bathing or dressing since he was a child. The maids would prepare his bath, and lay out his clothes for him while he was bathing, but there were more important things for Asgard’s maids to do than bathe him.

“I have to help you with your bath, then get you dressed,” she repeated with a matter-of-fact expression. “I’ve been doing the exact same thing with the entire royal family since before the late Queen Iwaldis was a babe in the cradle. It’s nothing, really, and I can show you how everything in the bathroom works.”

“I don’t know, Gwyn, I can manage -”

“I insist.” 

Loki had to smile at that. He liked that Gwyn had spirit, and if this was what Alfheim’s maids did, then he wouldn’t protest. It was certainly no burden to him. He nodded, and Gwyn looked pleased with herself.

“I’ll go run the bath water, and you can get your clothes off and put your robe on.” 

Gwyn went into the bathroom and shut the door, and Loki did as she asked. He had brought his robe from home, a thick and heavy garment that came down to his knees. He was just getting the strings tied when Gwyn came back out to fetch him. She chuckled at the sight of his pale legs.

“By the Norns, child,” she shrieked jokingly, pretending to shield her eyes. “Thank goodness you’re here, where you can get some sun without roasting to death. Come, the bath is ready.” 

His new maid ensured he was comfortable during the bath and Loki was surprised that he did not feel embarrassed once he actually got in the water. He pointed out the oils he wanted in the bath and she added them, and soon Loki was surrounded with the familiar smell of lavender and jasmine as Gwyn began to wash his hair.  

Once the bath was over Loki allowed Gwyn to help him dress, and she fussed over his hair like a mother would, combing out all the tangles and working oils into it to make it soft. She tied it up the way the elves did for special occasions like this, into a half ponytail with a braid going down the back. His black boots didn’t quite match the ensemble but they would have to do until he had others made. When she was done, Gwyn stepped back to admire her work and Loki blushed under her maternal scrutiny.

“You’ll blend right in,” she gushed, though Loki didn’t believe her. “I’ll escort you down to the gardens.”

.-

Gwyn was not wrong.

As soon as Loki came to the gardens, he realized that most of the guests were wearing similar colored tunics and robes, all in autumn colors and light textures. All of them sported braids in their hair. Loki smiled and touched his own small braid.

King Frèyr greeted him and, after praising his style and how well he carried his new clothes, proceeded to introduce him to all of Alfheim’s nobility.

Loki felt a bit dizzy, names and faces blending into each other. He nodded politely, shook and kissed hands, exchanged pleasantries effortlessly, as he had been taught most of his life, always keeping in mind that he was an Aesir Prince. It was part of his duty to represent the Royal Family and all of Asgard. Odin had made sure Loki knew the obligations of his station before he left. But there was a lot to take in, and Loki realized he probably wouldn’t remember most of these names come tomorrow. He did his best to be courteous and attentive to each of them.

The festival itself was exciting and colorful. Loki watched as the citizens performed choreographed dances, enacted beautifully written plays, and cheered on the children in their games. Many were dressed in vibrant costumes portraying the Old Gods. The booths sold every kind of food and craft that the heart desired. It was both exhilarating and exhausting for Loki, who had little experience interacting with the common people of his own realm, but he knew it was a good learning experience for him.

He was relieved when the guests of honor gathered in the throne room and the feast finally began. All the guests took seats at the tables in the main chamber, and the place was soon filled to the brim with idle chatter and the smell of food. Loki had a place at the King’s table, where the food was served first.

The food was yet another change from Asgard. The Aesir favored red meat, and Loki could not remember a feast where he hadn't seen several boars, goats and even a  _ whole steer _ being roasted. Here, the food consisted mainly of a wide variety of leaner meats - birds, hares, and fish, which was expected given the rivers and lakes surrounding the area - and so many different vegetables that Loki didn’t know the name of half of them. Thor would probably call all of it  _ grass _ .

The elven ale was tastier too, not as bitter as the one back home, sort of fruity even, and infused with spices.

Loki ate, drank, laughed,  _ danced _ ! He couldn’t even remember the last time he danced!

Everyone was so nice and friendly, and, more than that, they were accepting of who and what he was and treated him as one of their own. The elves were thrilled that an Aesir Prince was a seidr wielder. As Sigyn had said before, they had no time for brute force and boasting of your own strength. It was  _ their  _ honor to have him there, learning an ancient art that had been overlooked by Bor, and Odin after him. They guessed, quite accurately, that Thor would follow a similar path as his forefathers.

“Odin calls seidr a woman’s craft, and he praises bloated musculature and heavy weapons,” one of the noblemen said after they had all settled back down at the tables to drink some more, “but I guarantee when faced with a practitioner worth his salt he would be easily bested by the seidr he mocks.” The others laughed merrily at this, and raised their tankards in agreement.

“One can only assume they use such big weapons to compensate for  _ something _ !” Another round of loud laughter erupted from the table, followed by clanking pints.

King Frèyr winked at Loki, who nearly choked on his ale listening to the conversation.

One of the men turned to Loki. “What about you, my Prince? Do you fall in line with the house of Odin? What is your weapon of choice?” The hall fell into near silence as the nobles awaited his answer.

“Oh, well, as you can see, I’m not physically built for big swords and hammers,” Loki said, slightly embarrassed. “I prefer daggers and knives, mostly.” He put down his pint sheepishly. After a moment he was surprised to hear murmurs of awe from the guests.

“An impressive weapon of choice, if I may say so, Your Majesty,” an older nobleman spoke up from the opposite end of the long table. “It takes a practitioner of true skill to wield both his magic and a melee weapon at the same time. Most choose to use longbows, if any weapon at all aside from seidr and wit.” Affirmative laughter rippled across the tables, and the man took a deep sip from his pint, wiping the foam from his beard. “To fight with daggers and knives - that takes strength, agility, strategy, and split-second reaction time. You’re just beginning to learn your craft, and you can already conjure from thousands of miles away. That, my Prince, is the mark of a man who will someday be a true King.”

This wasn’t the reaction Loki had expected. The hall erupted with agreements, men raising their tankards and repeating _hear, hear._ Loki could feel his face getting warm, and he found himself lost for words. They truly believed in him, as a person, as a wielder of seidr, as a future King, and they barely knew him. His head swam with a mix of emotions and ale. It almost felt like a dream, like he was going to wake in his old bed soon, back in Asgard.

Frèyr stood and raised his own cup high. “To our Prince, who will one day be the first man of magic to sit on the throne of Asgard in over ten thousand years! To Prince Loki!”

_ Prince Loki!  _ The toast echoed through the hall as the guests drained their tankards and passed around more ale in massive flagons. 

.-

It was well after midnight when the revelry died down and the guests began to leave. Loki was exhausted, but he realized that it was the kind of content exhaustion that followed a day of excitement and new experiences. Once he was excused to retire to his new bedroom, he was glad to be able to undress, take his hair down, and fall into bed in nothing but his undergarments. 

Loki closed his eyes and allowed himself to smile into his pillow. He began to laugh as he relived the incredible and eventful day, and soon his stomach ached from laughing and he felt tears gathering in his eyes. Sighing with contentment, he sank down in the soft pillows and wrapped himself up in the thick blanket. Outside his window he could hear the gurgling of the river and the chirps of nocturnal insects, the lullaby of the land.

That night as he drifted off to sleep, and for the first time in his life, Loki felt he could be truly happy.


	9. Sanctum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki goes to school.

The next morning, despite all the excitement of the previous night, Loki woke up energized and well rested. He had slept the deep, dreamless sleep of someone finally at peace, and there was something soothing about waking up to the chirping of birds and gurgling water instead of shouting soldiers and clanking metal.

Loki took a deep and joyful breath as he sat on the bed, watching the patterns cast on the floor made by the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the trees outside his room. He couldn’t wait to explore more of the land. The lake and the forest looked inviting and new. Everything on Asgard was so artificial and hand crafted, and Alfheim was full of seemingly endless resplendent wonders. Loki could only imagine how many surprises nature could hold when left to act in her own way.

But today was not the day. Today, King Frèyr would take him to the Sanctum.

The King hadn’t said much regarding Loki’s admission to the Sanctum. All Loki knew was that he would have to go through some tests, like an audition. The nature of the tests, Frèyr could not divulge.

Loki’s smile faltered, all his insecurities dawning on him. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he didn’t get accepted? Would they send him back to Asgard? He bet his father would be _really_ happy about yet another failure on his part. The thought of going back to Asgard after seeing how happy he could be here made his stomach drop.

A small knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Come in,” he shouted, and Gwyn opened the door.

“Your highness,” she said with a small bow. “The King has requested your presence for breakfast. May I assist you in getting ready this morning?”

She didn’t wait for Loki to answer, and busied herself in running a bath and picking his outfit. Loki looked at her as she worked, amusement distracting him from his anxieties.

“I could say no, but it seems you won’t listen to me,” Loki said with a smile.

“I am happy we have reached an understanding so soon.” Gwyn smiled back, her hands on her plump hips.

Already bathed, dressed and pampered up, Loki met the King and the Princess in the hall for breakfast. They discussed the previous night and the positive impression Loki had made on the nobles. Loki felt terribly self conscious about the whole thing; part of him wondered how his father would feel about his subjects’ judgement. Another part of him thought Odin deserved it.

“Should I have said something?” Loki asked, more to himself. “I mean, I am the representative of the House of Odin, but--”

“My boy.” Frèyr patted his shoulder. “Your father has no eyes here,” he said with a wink. “Now, finish your breakfast. There are people waiting to meet you.”

Suddenly, Loki lost his appetite. “Right…”

“Don’t be nervous,” Sigyn chirped in, trying to lighten his mood. “You’ll do great.”

“You’ve been to the Sanctum? You go there too?”

“Only as a visitor,” she explained. “I won’t be taking the trials for another decade or so.”

Frèyr briefly explained the schooling system to Loki as they ate. The Sanctum was reserved for those who excelled in the magical arts, those who could pass the trials with no exception. Some professions intrinsically linked to magic had to go there to study, such as healers. Loki knew this much: the healers of the palace in Asgard had attended this Sanctum. It made him feel even more anxious. Sigyn grabbed his hand on the table.

“Loki, we’ve seen your magic. Stop doubting yourself so much,” she said with a smile. “As you saw last night, things work very differently here. Your magic won’t be ever made fun of or brushed aside.”

Loki knew Sigyn was right, and her assurance lessened the knot in his stomach, allowing him to finish his breakfast.

.-

King Frèyr led Loki to the back of the castle and through the gardens. A white cobblestone path led to the base of the mountains. It was surrounded by trees that kept the walk light and cool. Loki couldn’t help but think that this same task would have made him extremely uncomfortable back home, even during this time of year.

They walked in silence, and Frèyr noticed how nervous Loki still was. He wouldn’t stop scratching and pulling at his fingers the whole way. Breakfast sat heavy in Loki’s stomach and felt more like ice the closer they got to the Sanctum itself, and he found himself wishing he had waited to eat until after the exam.

After a short flight of stairs, they reached the entrance to the Sanctum, and the sight that greeted him was exquisite and nearly made him forget his nerves. Much like the rest of Alfheim, the Sanctum had been built as part of its natural surroundings. The rounded white stone structure had been carved out of the mountain itself. The arch and pillars at the doorway were peppered with leaf patterns that shone green and gold in the light. An ash tree had been sculpted in extreme detail at the top of the entrance - a symbol of Yggdrasil, of strength as well as magical potency and power. The building itself didn’t appear to be as big as the palace, but the light and the colors made it look ethereal.

A guard was stationed at the entrance, and he bowed to both Frèyr and Loki before they crossed the threshold. A thick man dressed in a linen beige and green tunic hurried to greet them.

“Your majesties!” He greeted them with a bow. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Master Céleben.” Frèyr nodded and Loki copied him.

“Please, come with me. The rest of the council will see you shortly,” Master Céleben said, leading them inside.

If the view from the outside was breathtaking, Loki wasn’t sure how he could describe the inside. He was stunned when he realized that the small building outside was literally just the entrance. The mountain _was_ the Sanctum, and it was more beautiful and inspiring than anything Loki had seen in his life.

Master Céleben walked them through an expansive corridor. Long pillars that lined the walls had been carved from the stone of the mountain, respecting its colors. White marble, shining granite and black obsidian were just a few. One side of the corridor boasted statues of many celebrated Seidr masters. Loki knew the names of a few and wasn’t at all surprised to see Asgard’s archives had left the _men_ out. The men of Aesir stories were fierce and strong warriors, not _wizards_. It was both refreshing and encouraging to see men from his own realm represented among the greatest to have learned at this Sanctum. The other side of the corridor was all windows at the top, the lower half of the wall covered in bright and colorful murals, depicting different crafts and uses of magic. Alchemy, chemistry, astronomy, healing, engineering, different types of art… The gardening bit reminded him of Frigga.

“My prince,” master Céleben brought Loki back from his admiration. “This way, please.”

The master opened a wooden door and waited for Loki to go in. Frèyr smiled at Loki before taking a seat by the windows. Loki took a deep breath to calm his racing heart and entered the room. Céleben followed right behind him.

“Prince Loki, may I introduce you to Master Arannion and Master Indilwen.” Both man and woman bowed their heads slightly, and Loki nodded in response.

After exchanging pleasantries and informing him they had received a very lengthy and heartfelt letter from Queen Frigga, they made Loki sit at a long table. Master Arannion, head of the Sanctum, made a short introduction of the place and laid out the tests Loki would have to go through.

“There is a practical part and a theoretical part,” he said. “From what I gather, you should not have problems with the practical part of it, seeing you have already mastered conjuring, cloaking and some degree of illusionary magic. As for theory, we know your education in Asgard must have been… _less_ than optimum.”

“My mother suggested many volumes to read…” Loki said tentatively.

“I don’t doubt the Queen did as much as she could, but Asgard has very little practical information about subjects that don’t interest them,” Master Indilwen offered politely. “Keeping that in mind, we will give you access to our own archive so you can study for the theoretical exam,” she added with a smile.

Loki’s eyes went wide in surprise. He hadn’t expected to be given extra time to prepare.

“As for the practical trials…” Master Céleben stood up and motioned Loki to do the same. “Your examination starts now.”

Loki was about to protest, but decided against it. He _knew_ the extent of his magic, he didn’t have to rehearse it. He had noticed how much easier was to gather his energy in this realm too, so he took a deep breath and stood in the middle of the room, awaiting instructions. The three masters had him following several tasks, going from simple tricks like conjuring everyday objects to more elaborate ones like cloaking and teleportation. Everything was going pretty well, if Loki had a say, but the masters were unreadable.

After what it felt like a long time, Loki was finally allowed to rest. He hadn’t realized how drained he was; his hands were shaking and he was sweating lightly in his heavy Asgardian attire. In an automatic move, he made his clothes cooler, but only just. The last thing he wanted was to start gathering frost in front of the teachers.

“Very good,” was all Master Indilwen said, with a tiny smile. “Master Céleben will take you to the library and give you the proper books for you to study. Your theoretical exam will be held next week.”

All the way to the library, Loki wanted to ask how had he done, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. And anyway, he was still being distracted by the decoration. When they got to the library, Loki forgot how to speak again. The room was _massive_. At least 3 stories high, ornate black iron stairs moved magically to allow the scholars to move around. As the rest of the Sanctum, the mountain was the wall and the ceiling. An intricate system of mirrors allowed the sunlight coming from one side of the room to flood it completely. Loki was sure he could hear bubbling water somewhere, no doubt they were underground springs. The whole time Master Céleben was gathering his books, Loki stared at the place with his mouth open.

“Here you go,” Master Céleben presented him the books and a small list.

“Sorry.” Loki said, shaking his head.

“Quite impressive, isn’t it?” Master Céleben smiled. “We hold the largest collection in the Nine Realms. Not only magic, but history, myth, fantasy and other subjects.” He said, then brought the attention back to the books he had given Loki. “These will help you with the basics, and the titles on this list you can get at the palace.”

Loki thanked the master many times while they were on their way out. He was practically beside himself with nerves and excitement. Frèyr was waiting for Loki outside, and he stared at Loki expectantly until the master went back inside.

“How did it go?” the king asked with a smile.

“I think I have never wanted something so much as I want go here,” Loki said, still in a state of shock.

Frèyr laughed and patted Loki’s back affectionately. “You will, my boy. You will.”

.-

The following week, Loki spent nearly every waking hour reading and studying, filling a small spare blank manuscript with his new notes. He had many things to thank his maid for. Gwyn made sure he didn’t exhaust himself, having him bathe in his relaxing oils every night. _You must get a good night sleep so your head is clear tomorrow._ He might have skipped meals too if it weren’t for Gwyn watching him very closely and checking every plate he sent back to the kitchen. _You’re but skin and bones! You must feed properly if you want to perform magic!_ Loki was quickly growing fond of her mother hen nature and was grateful she was there to help him.

Princess Sigyn was also quite helpful, showing Loki the best spots to read in the gardens, teaching him some of her studying skills, and sometimes dragging him out of despair when he got stuck.

The day of the examination, Loki was still nervous, but confident that he had done everything in his power to prepare for this. He arrived at the Sanctum early, just in case. A short, skinny man who introduced himself as Master Manadhon was waiting for him. Soon, five other people arrived to the foyer: three men and two women, fairly close to his age. Loki recognized them as Vanir. The sound of the Bifrost broke the usual calmness, and a while later two Aesir women arrived. From the light blue color of their robes, Loki knew they were healers in training.

Master Manadhon led the group down the same corridor Loki had been the first time, and into the same room. But now, the hall was full of comfortable working stations. Each of them got a blank notebook and a question sheet. A big golden clock chimed, signaling the start of their examination time.

Loki took a deep breath and started to work. The sound of the wind and the water outside relaxed him enough to finish in the allotted time. But in all honesty, he had no idea how he had done. After he turned in his notebook, Master Manadhon informed him his results would be announced the following day, and allowed him to leave.

Frèyr and Sigyn took Loki riding that afternoon, just to keep his mind off the exam. The beauty of the land and the low temperature helped to make him less anxious, but at the same time it made him want to stay even more.

Next morning, Gwyn got him out of bed, as usual, and urged him to have breakfast in the gardens. But Loki could not stay still. He just wished he could sit by his door, waiting for news from the Sanctum.

When he returned to his chambers after lunch, he found a fairly big square object on his desk, wrapped in unmarked gold paper. Attached to the top, there was a rolled parchment with the ash leaf seal of the Sanctum. Loki’s heart started pounding. He opened the parchment with trembling hands.

 _Prince Loki of Asgard,_ the letter read,

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a student of the Sanctum of Alfheim._

_Your application and examination were exemplary, and we look forward to advancing your education in seidr and the magical arts._

_Term begins one quarter moon from today. You will receive your textbooks once you start your classes, and we have sent the study manuscript for your notes with this letter. May it serve you well during your time at the Sanctum._

_Best regards,_

_Master Manadhon._

Loki couldn’t believe it! He had been accepted! Eagerly, he ripped open the gold paper, already suspecting what the pack was. As he read the cover his smile grew even wider, if that was possible: his first Grimoire.

He had never seen one in Asgard, and Odin never let him own one. That’s why his notes were scattered over several journals and loose pages. But no more.

A rush of exhilaration ran through him as he opened his Grimoire. The countercover was green, black and gold. The front page had his name and his _apprentice_ rank, in gold ink. The first pages were already occupied with a brief history lesson, some minor spells, basic magic mechanics and moving images. The rest of the book was blank, and Loki couldn’t wait to start filling it with his own annotations and spells. But he first had to write to his mother and tell her the good news.

Frèyr held a small celebration for him that evening, his favorite pudding included. They all assured him that they had never doubted his skill and that he would surely excel under the guidance of the greatest seidr masters in the nine realms and the support of people who believed in him. Loki knew it was a lot of pressure but for once he actually felt like he could live up to it.

In the days leading to the start of the term, Sigyn and Gwyn decided Loki needed new clothes. He shouldn’t be around in his heavy Asgardian attire, they insisted, so they took him to the tailors and the shoemakers. Loki got new tunics, shirts, trousers, breechers, shoes and short boots, all made in bright forest green, black, and dark brown, and threaded with golden leaf motives. They were all made out of linen, silk and wool, which made them comfortable and cozy. Leather was reserved for his combat training armor. His heavy Asgardian black boots would come handy in the snow season, and his new brown boots would suit his new wardrobe better.

“Girls and boys will be falling at your feet in no time,” Sigyn said with a glint in her eyes, while Gwyn was again braiding his hair after he tried on some of his new clothes.

Loki just smiled at the compliment, face turning slightly pink. He hadn’t given it much thought, as he had been raised beside Thor, who was usually the one whose attentions were sought by their peers, but now Loki had a chance to prove himself without being compared to his brother. And he had to admit the new clothes _did_ flatter him in a way that all-black never did.

At last it was the first day of school, and Loki couldn’t remember being this excited in his life before. He woke up before Gwyn could drag him out of bed, and she insisted he ate all his breakfast, nevermind that Loki was nearly bouncing off the walls.

It was a chill morning, so Loki donned his new woolen coat, and packed his quills and pens with his notebooks and his Grimoire. He had heard the Bifrost earlier, so he correctly guessed the healers in training had arrived from Asgard. The Vanir group he had seen walk by when he was getting ready to leave.

The whole time Loki walked the corridor that led into the heart of the Sanctum, his heart was pounding. He could hear a smattering of voices inside the classroom, and his heart jumped to his throat. Loki took one final breath to calm himself before he touched the doorknob and opened the door.


	10. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki falls in love.

_ Dearest Mother, _

_ It is my hope that this letter finds you in good spirits, as mine cannot be contained. King Frèyr and the Princess Sigyn have been exceedingly accommodating and ceaselessly patient over the past weeks as I have begun my studies at the Sanctum, and it was with great surprise that I learned that some of Asgard’s greatest leaders had studied here, and that they had been left out of our archives. This is something I aim to remedy once I return.  _

_ In the spirit of new beginnings, I have to confess that I find myself overwhelmed at times, but with joy and pride rather than the darkness that used to poison me from within. The Masters here have expressed their intuition that I was born with an innate connection to magic, and that all I needed to harness it was the right instruction - with no offense forwarded to you, as you are the greatest Queen the Nine Realms has had in generations and your knowledge in seidr is nothing to underestimate. It is due to your guidance that I have come this far as a practitioner already, and I could never thank you enough for that, and for allowing me to come here. _

_ With regards to my abilities, as you well know, I have always been able to manipulate cold, particularly in response to my intolerance to heat. I discussed this issue in length with one of my Masters, and she believes that this power inside of me exists to protect me, and the fact that it has been there since I was an infant that couldn’t possibly control it suggests that I am a born sorcerer with the potential to someday be a powerful seidr Master. It is a lot to live up to, but I can feel in my bones that there is more than a grain of truth to it. _

_ With winter now in full swing, I find my time in Alfheim to be much more comfortable than it would be in Asgard, as the weather swings to such extremes there that I was forced to remain indoors nearly all year while the seasons are much more mild here. This realm is truly breathtaking, its forests and architecture a thing of rare beauty that I was unprepared for - and the Alfar are a sophisticated people who are practiced in magic and in the appreciation of life. Only yesterday I was walking through the castle gardens after snowfall, reciting incantations to myself, and I saw and joined Princess Sigyn and several common Alfar in skating on the lake that had frozen over. Somehow it is in their blood to balance work and play without an overindulgence in either, and they are happier for it. As am I. _

_ My mind often wanders to home, to you and Thor and Father and the Kingdom’s affairs. There are a few Aesir Healers in training here at the Sanctum, but they are not privy to castle gossip and know next to nothing about what goes on. It takes little stretch of the imagination to believe life is a bit less complicated for you without me there to enrage Father with my failures or for Thor to pass blame onto for his latest antics. I will be granted visitation time after my first decade of studying has been completed, and I will be released to spend that autumn season in Asgard before the next year starts. I believe you will find me a changed person, unrecognizable from the shell of a boy I once was, and I hope it makes you proud. _

_ I will write you again the next full moon, and in the meantime I would enjoy hearing from you. It is with best wishes for your continued health and happiness that I send my love. Perhaps I will learn to cast illusions between realms over the next few years so I can speak to you in person more often. _

_ Loki _

.-

Five years had passed since Loki first came to Alfheim, his skills flourishing, his confidence higher than ever, and even his room boasted brighter colors and a larger bay window to let in more light. The princess Sigyn was becoming like a younger sister to him, and they both looked to each other for advice and support as she approached the age to begin her own studies at the Sanctum. On the last day of the fifth summer, Loki sat on a chair in his bathroom letting Gwyn braid his hair, which had grown down to the middle of his back with not a single split end in sight, thanks to Gwyn’s tedious care. Loki was still grateful that he had such a spirited and dedicated maid to help him, and she insisted she was happy to take care of the small things like dressing and cleaning so his mind was free to worry about the big things - his studies, inter-realm diplomacy, and learning from Frèyr what it meant to be a good and efficient King, even if he never got the throne.

Gwyn ran Loki’s brush through the bottom half of his hair that wasn’t braided, slowly working the oils through to tame his curls. “So when were you going to tell us?” she asked casually, and Loki frowned, his heart skipping a beat. He had tried to keep it private, at least for now.

“Tell you what?”

“Alright, I get it,” she conceded. “I won’t push. You’re a Prince, though, so people are bound to figure it out eventually, especially when you pick one as handsome as you did.” Loki met her eyes in the mirror, his cheeks and ears bright red, and she winked at him.

.-

_ Mother, _

_ Now that the first five years of my apprenticeship have been completed and I have proven my worth amongst the student body, the Masters are granting me further privileges at the Sanctum, including access to certain restricted material and private practice time with more advanced skills like teleportation and camouflaging magic. The Alfar possess the largest collection of texts and reference books in the Nine Realms, giving me unparallelled opportunity to further my education. Indeed, if Thor takes the throne as I expect he will, I may choose to become a teacher myself in the future, to fill in the gaps that Asgardian schools leave.  _

_ For the first time I find myself vexed by affairs of the heart, even amidst the work I have to do as part of my training. It feels superfluous to pursue something that will likely only be a fleeting infatuation, but even so, I cannot ignore what draws my attention - and I fail to find the right person to ask advice from. _

_ There is someone from Vanaheim that I have studied alongside for the last five years and with whom I have developed a close friendship. But there’s more than the innocent friendly feelings one might have - that one  _ **_should_ ** _ have. _

_ I find my thoughts drifting to my friend when they are not otherwise occupied with scholarly endeavors. I find myself wishing to spend more hours together. I find myself daydreaming about him! I am surprised I haven’t started writing love stories about us. _

_ Yes, it is a “he”. Which is part of why I am conflicted. I realized I have no qualms with the notion of a relationship between people of the same gender. The Alfar and the Vanir are open to all kinds of demonstrations of love, much more than Asgard. I just never thought it would happen to me. _

_ I cannot describe the way he makes me feel, or the way we understand each other with just a look. Small things make me think he might feel the same way. But I can’t escape the tightness that sets in my chest every time I think maybe he doesn’t. _

_ It could be something, it could be nothing, but if there was only one thing I have learned about intuition, it’s to trust it. Only time will show whether my affections are returned - and after all, all we have is time. _

_ I expect Father would be none too pleased if he knew this, and I am confiding in you because I know you won’t tell him and even will help me in dispelling rumours that I am sure have reached Asgard. _

_ As always, I send my love and promise that I will take my leave at the first opportunity so you can stop worrying so much, at least for a while. _

_ Loki _

.-

Loki received a reply letter faster than he ever had before, his heart skipping quite a few beats when he returned to his room after supper less than a week later. He held the textured and sealed paper in one hand and fussed with his braid in the other, debating whether to open it or not - suppose Odin had intercepted or found his last letter and this was a notice that he was being disowned? What if Frigga shared the knowledge of his friend Erik and they were all laughing at him back home? 

_ No,  _ Loki scolded himself for even thinking of such a betrayal from his own mother.  _ You’re being ridiculous. It has Frigga’s seal on the wax enclosure.  _ He took a seat at his desk and opened the letter with shaking hands, and he could hear Gwyn letting herself in as he read, grateful she didn’t interrupt him as she busied herself getting his bath and sleeping clothes ready.

The letter detailed the latest goings-on at the castle and Kingdom, from Thor’s upcoming diplomatic trip to Vanaheim, wherein the Prince would stay at the castle for a week and negotiate the new trade dealings in Odin’s stead, to the recruitment of a rather feisty woman warrior named Sif to Thor’s inner circle of friends, and the speculation that she would one day be his intended. 

Frigga went on to conclude in her brief reply that it would be wise to keep anything romantic that would happen between himself and his friend in private as much as possible so word would not reach Asgard, that she supported him but his father would not, and she would do what was necessary to quell any gossip about him. Few people dared to question the Allmother, Loki knew. 

When he finished, Loki saw Gwen standing next to him with a patient smile on her face, her hands folded in front of her. Having gotten to know the woman over the past few years, Loki trusted Gwyn, and wanted to feel comfortable telling her about Erik - and a part of him suspected she knew anyway - but since even he wasn’t sure that it was anything to tell at all, he decided not to. He looked up at Gwyn’s soft eyes and half-smiled. 

“Is all well in the Capitol, your Highness?” She had her eyebrow quirked up in the way it always did when she was trying to say something without actually saying it out loud. Gwyn knew him too well sometimes.

Loki ran his thumb over the broken wax seal and shrugged his shoulders. “They’re… trying to figure out whether to start an alliance with a neighboring planet, but they’re, ah, unsure whether relations with them are secure enough to do so.”

Gwyn hummed cryptically. “I see. I often find that answers lie in instinct of the heart, but I am just a handmaid and you don’t have to listen to me, my Prince.”

Loki had to smile at that. “One would be wise,” he assured her, “to heed the advice of a woman who has had her finger on the pulse of a thriving kingdom for thousands of years, even if she  _ is _ a maid.”

.-

Loki and Erik exited the tavern in a giggle fit; they had caused enough mayhem for the night and they were  _ politely _ invited to leave, after perhaps just a bit too much to drink.

Over the years, the pair had become infamous as the trickster duo, as it was their trademark to pull pranks together at any possible moment in a way that wouldn’t get them in trouble for it. Though the Masters at the Sanctum, as well as most of the older adults in Alfheim’s nearby villages, found their tricks to be less than amusing, the two friends still had risen their way to the top of their classes, had many friends, and were hardly ever seen without the other close by.

Loki walked Erik to the village’s group home he and their Vanir classmates shared during the courses. It was late, and fully dark outside, the springtime insects and gurgling river creating a nighttime symphony that kept the atmosphere light. The laughs they were having on the way slowly turned into an awkward silence when they reached the gates.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Loki said with a small smile, and turned to leave.

Erik held his breath, and grabbed Loki’s hand, pulling him back. His other hand pulled Loki down by the neck. Loki was too stunned to do anything, and accepted the kiss Erik offered with joy. If Erik weren’t holding on to him, Loki might have leapt with happiness.

The kiss wasn’t much, and too short for Loki’s liking, but it left them both breathless and shaking slightly anyway.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now,” Erik confessed, hands sliding down Loki’s shoulders and chest, his fingers fidgeting with the strings that tied his tunic closed in the front. “Years.”

“Why didn’t you do it sooner?” Loki asked, part of him still unwilling to believe what had happened.

“You are an  _ aesir prince _ !”

“So?”

“ _ So? _ ” Erik said with a scoff. He threw his arms out to the side in an exasperated shrug. “Asgard is not renowned for their acceptance of-  _ unconventional _ relationships.”

Loki looked at his own shoes, face red with embarrassment. “I know, and you have no idea how hard it is to-” He gulped, not sure if he wanted to say what was next, what had lain heavy in his heart for over half a decade.

Erik sighed deeply and took Loki’s hands, stepping closer to him. “Please be honest with me, Loki. I swear I won’t get mad and I swear will still be friends. We’ve known each other for too long to change that.”

Loki’s heart was pounding inside his chest when he looked at Erik. Every word was jumbled in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Honest? First he had to be honest with himself… With every second Loki took to answer, Erik’s hold on his hands slacked. If he let go-

“ _ No. _ ” Loki suddenly breathed out, startling Erik.

Loki gripped Erik’s hands and pulled him close again, leaning down to kiss him. This second kiss was far better. Loki was more confident and comfortable, knowing Erik felt the same way he did. Erik wrapped his arms around Loki’s neck as he stood on the tip of his toes, trying to deepen the kiss.

“Damn you for being so tall!” Erik said, breaking away to breathe.

“Would you like me to summon a box?” Loki teased. “Or maybe a ladder?”

“Shut up!” Erik slapped Loki’s arm, playfully squirming to get away from him.

But Loki tightened his grip around Erik, his giggles falling on Erik’s hair. Erik took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around Loki’s waist.

“This feels nice,” Erik said after a moment’s thoughtful silence. 

Loki had to agree. Erik’s height was just so that the top of his head tucked right under his own chin. He gently cupped the back of Erik’s neck with one hand and ran his hand down Erik’s back with the other. He didn’t want this stolen moment to end - but of course he knew it had to.

“I am sorry that I will have to ask you to keep it from public view.” Loki sighed, deflated. “Mostly at the school. With the Aesir healers-”

“Of course.” Erik looked up at Loki, pushing a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “Word travels fast there.”

“I really have to get back to the palace,” Loki said somberly. He took Erik’s face in his trembling hands and gave him another quick, soft kiss. 

“Then I will see you tomorrow, and we can do more of this, preferably while sitting down.” Erik chuckled, the sound even more charming to Loki than before.

“I can still summon a box,” Loki mused, getting an annoyed eye roll from Erik. “Goodnight.”

Loki watched Erik depart and sprinted the rest of the way back to the castle, taking the secret entrance that Sigyn had shown him years before to avoid the guards. When he got back to his room, his heart was still flying with exultation, and he could hardly contain his breathless, joyful laughter as he fell onto his immaculately made bed and buried his head in his pillows. 

All day the next day at the Sanctum, Loki had to force himself to stop constantly thinking about Erik so he could focus in class. He and Erik stole looks at each other from across rooms, touched hands beneath tables when they got to sit together, and sneaked off to the restrooms to kiss during lunch break, all the while hoping desperately that no one would catch them.

“This examination coming next week is going to be brutal,” Erik groaned as they were walking toward the palace once the day was over. Loki knew Erik was referring to the hours-long practical exam in conjuring and teleportation just a few days away, and they were going to study together at the palace to get some practice - and alone time - in. They were within shouting distance of the castle and Loki couldn’t wait to take Erik to the library for some privacy. 

Seeing no one around, Loki put his arm around Erik’s shoulders and squeezed. “I know,” he said wearily, “but if there’s anyone that can pass, it’s you. And me, with you there,” he added, and Erik looked up at him with a flattered smile.

“Loki, my dear boy!” Frèyr’s ringing voice carried down the path to the two of them and they parted with a jump. “Erik, how lovely to see you! Will you be joining us for supper this evening?”

Erik, completely frozen in place, had been rendered unable to speak by the surprise of the moment, so Loki answered for him. “Yes, he will,” he said confidently, practiced in the art of hiding his emotions. “We have a test to study for, so we’ll be going to the library.”

Frèyr looked from one boy to the other, his eyes twinkling. “Of course,” he said, a smile spreading wide across his face. “I will ensure none of the guards or staff will interrupt your… studying.”

Loki found himself less than hungry at dinner, distracted by Erik’s foot tapping his underneath the table. He poked his food around with his fork and kept looking from where Frèyr and Sigyn were talking, to across the table where Erik was staring at him while he ate. He could still feel the ghost of Erik’s lips on his own, could smell his hair on his clothes. His thoughts back in the library, Loki stroked his thumb on his lower lip, and didn’t hear Frèyr addressing him until he got a light tap on his shoulder.

“Loki, your boyfriend asked you a question.”

Loki sat up straight and dropped his fork. “Oh, sorry, Erik,” he said distractedly, “what were you saying?”

A second too late, Loki realized his mistake. He and Erik stared at each other with wide eyes, neither of them breathing, until Frèyr and Sigyn broke the silence and tension with their laughter.

Sigyn pushed against Erik’s shoulder and took a sip of her wine. “Calm down, you two,” she said, and patted Erik’s hand. “You guys are safe here.”

Loki closed his eyes and sighed with relief. He should have known. “You understand why we didn’t say anything, right?” He opened his eyes again to see Erik’s terrified expression. “My father, he can’t find out about this. He would be… displeased.”

“You didn’t have to say anything you didn’t want to say, Loki.” Frèyr said, patting Loki’s shoulder. “Besides…” The king looked at his daughter.

“We’ve known for a while now, you both are as subtle as mating bilgesnipes.”

.-

“Is it true you get to leave when the spring is over?” 

Erik and Loki were walking down the white cobblestone path toward the castle after class to study together - and other things - less than a month before Loki’s scheduled visit to see his family in Asgard. It had been a long and productive ten years, and Loki had grown in more ways he had ever thought possible, physically, emotionally, and in his power.

Loki smiled down at Erik sadly at this reminder. “Yes, and I am both looking forward to it and dreading it all at once,” he admitted, and shifted the weight of his books from one arm to the other, freeing the one closest to Erik. His hand was close enough to touch Erik without it looking awkward to anyone else who might see, he could put his arm on his shoulder…

“It’s the King, right?” Erik’s question interrupted Loki’s thoughts and he nearly jumped. “And your brother.”

“Am I that transparent?” Loki teased, knowing there had been many times that the two of them spoke of little else. Erik had the intuition and ear of a healer, being Vanir by birth, with the intellect, strength, and reflexes, if not the height, of a future seidr warrior, and many a discussion between them over the years had segued to Loki’s family. 

Erik bumped playfully into Loki’s side, making him stumble briefly, and they laughed. “I’ve said this before,” he began, slowing down his walking pace, “but you need to remember,  _ they  _ need to remember, you’re not the kid you were when you got here. You’ve changed - for the better, I think - and you have the power now to prove it. Remind them.”

Loki’s lips turned up in a smile that did not reach his eyes. Grasping Loki’s wrist, Erik pulled him to a stop, staring up at him with a serious expression. “I mean it. You can’t let them walk all over you, Loki. Look at you - you’re thriving, you’re growing, you’re…” 

Loki’s stomach clenched and he fought the urge to brush Erik’s wild hair from his face. There was no guessing who might pass them and see. “I’m…what?” 

Erik squeezed Loki’s wrist a little tighter and cleared his throat. “You’re a Prince,” he finished, breathing harder than before. “Far be it from me to know the dynamics of a royal family, or question the King, but it has always sounded like you’ve been treated as second-best. You don’t deserve that.”

Loki’s heart warmed at Erik’s words. Somewhere in his mind he knew Erik was right, but he wasn’t sure that he would be of the same level of confidence when he returned to see his family. Loki had made a life for himself here among the Alfar; he had friends, and a  _ boyfriend _ (albeit a secret one) and he had found new family bonds with the King and Princess, ones he doubted could be broken by distance or time.

“Just... remember what you have here, Loki,” Erik said warmly. “Whenever they get you down or they don’t appreciate you enough, remember what you’ve built here.”

.-

The first day of summer was almost upon them. Term was over, and Loki had excelled once again on his examinations, so much that Master Indilwen had offered him the chance to advance his education through private lessons. It was an honor to be granted such opportunity, knowing Master Indilwen was the most skilled shapeshifter in the Nine Realms. Loki had studied the craft extensively, but lacked the proper guidance. He accepted the master’s offer without much thought.

The night before his departure, Loki was in his chambers, trying to select what to bring to Asgard with him and putting it inside of one of his trunks. The short blond boy sitting on his desk with his legs dangling over the side was something Loki would like to throw inside as well.

“Promise you will write.” 

They had had this same conversation nearly every day for the preceding month, but Loki knew Erik couldn’t help the sad whine in his voice. “Every week,” he promised, giving Erik a wink.

“And no ogling over those Aesir warriors, with their tall and sculpted bodies.”

Loki dropped a few journals inside the trunk and looked at Erik flatly. “If the Aesir’s  _ tall and sculpted bodies _ were my kind of thing, what would I be doing with a tadpole such as yourself?” He laughed and bumped Erik’s leg with his elbow.

Erik huffed and crossed his arms, feigning offense. Loki shook his head and closed the now full trunk with resigned finality. He took a deep breath and walked over to Erik, standing between his knees, leaning on the desk, hands on either side of his boyfriend’s legs.

“I am going to miss you, my tadpole,” Loki said in a low voice, leaning down to press his forehead to Erik’s. He could smell the earthy scent of Erik’s skin, the gentle soapy aroma of his hair and clothes, with just a hint of sandalwood oil. Once again Loki fought the urge to simply toss Erik into his trunk and sneak him into Asgard.  _ What a stir that would cause,  _ he mused to himself.

“Longshanks!”

“Yes,  _ all _ of them.”

Loki leaned in and kissed Erik before he could retaliate and held there, savoring the feeling of his soft lips and the slight moan he gave when Loki placed his hand on the back of his neck.

“Told you they’d still be in here,” Sigyn’s amused voice rang from the doorway. Loki pulled back from the kiss and turned to see her standing with Gwyn, both of them smiling conspiratorially.

“Alright, boys, time’s up,” Gwen clucked in her mother hen voice. “The Prince has a big day tomorrow and he’s going to need his sleep. Off you go, blondie.” 

Erik wrapped his arms around Loki’s shoulders and buried his face in the crook of his neck. Loki felt him stroking his long hair, which now reached almost to the small of his back. He didn’t want to let go - to let go meant accepting that it would be months before seeing Erik again - but Gwyn cleared her throat insistently and Loki knew he had to step away from the desk and let Erik get down.

“Come, now, it’s only for the season,” Sigyn reassured them. “Loki will be back before you know it, you’ll see. You can come visit me in the meantime, Erik, I’ll be preparing for my own exams.” She held out her hand and Erik gave Loki one last peck on his cheek before crossing the room to take Sigyn’s arm. 

Loki watched morosely as Sigyn escorted Erik down the hall, and Gwen came in and patted him on the back. “I know it’s hard, love, but the Princess is right - a few months is nothing compared to how long the two of you may end up together.”

“Whatever will you do with your time while I’m gone?” Loki joked, trying to lighten his mood and get Erik off his mind.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” she said, crossing her arms with a smile and a wink. “I bet that if I were to dust this room from top to bottom I’d get enough of your stray hair to make a wig.”

Loki couldn’t think of anything else to say - he had avoided expressing his true disappointment in being away to keep Erik from getting upset, and the tears he had held back were threatening to appear. He knew it was pointless to feel this way, because, after all, it was only for a few months, but if truth be told, Loki was not looking forward to seeing anyone but his mother.  _ Maybe  _ Thor, if he dug deep. He brushed Gwyn’s hand away when she tried to pat his arm.

“I don’t want to bathe tonight, I just want to go to bed, if you don’t mind,” he said, in no mood to be consoled. He spoke with a sharp and cold inflection that made his maid frown. She hurried around the room to gather up his nighttime clothes in a pile on his bed and gave him an understanding smile before bowing and taking her leave for the night.


	11. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki goes back home, and Odin is, unsurprisingly, still an asshole.

At dawn Loki was already awake and dressed, waiting on the edge of his bed to be summoned by Frèyr to have breakfast and depart on the Bifrost back to Asgard. Eyes heavy from inadequate sleep, he kept himself awake watching the birds flit through the trees outside his window. Erik was probably awake too, he knew - as a morning person, Erik always liked to rise in time to watch the colors of the sky change from a deep indigo to pink, to yellow and orange, and finally to Alfheim’s beautiful light blue. 

Loki sighed. He shouldn’t be thinking about Erik but it was impossible not to. Logically he could accept that a single season was but a blip of time in his long life, that it would probably go by quickly, but he couldn’t extend the logic to his heart, which was heavy with grief as though Erik had died.

After a quiet breakfast and an even quieter horse ride to the Bifrost landing site, Loki said his goodbyes to Frèyr and Sigyn and departed with a promise to write. Loki’s spirit gave a grateful leap of joy when he saw his mother and brother waiting for him inside the observatory when he arrived back at Asgard - and was not surprised at all to see Odin had not bothered to join them.

“Darling, you look so grown!” Frigga rushed over to Loki and embraced him tight in her thin arms, and Loki settled into the hug as he breathed in his mother’s familiar, comforting scent. She pulled back and took Loki’s face in her hands, and he could see happy tears coursing down her cheeks. “Let me look at you,” she breathed, smiling wide. “I’ve enjoyed every letter you’ve sent, and I’m so proud of you. Your father is waiting in the castle, he had to rearrange a few things to be here when you got back.”

Thor gave Loki a clap on the back and Loki returned his smile, noting that he was not the only one who had grown in his absence. His brother had a full beard now, and had grown his blond hair out past his shoulders. If it were possible he looked even more massive. As if to demonstrate his size, Thor lifted Loki’s trunk over his shoulder and held it effortlessly with one arm. “Who are you and what have you done with my spindly waif of a brother?” he teased, and winked at Loki as he passed him to walk down the bridge.

Loki looked out at the city and focused on the glittering golden palace in the distance that he had grown up in, wondering if it would still feel like home, if it ever had to begin with.

_ Probably not. _

Loki made small talk with his mother and brother while on the bridge, telling them stories about life in Alfheim, about the palace and the people, about ice skating and riding on the beach.

“Mother told me there is a princess,” Thor said with a cheeky smile.

“Princess Sigyn?” Loki said, confused by Thor’s implications. “She’s just- my friend.”

“Right.” Thor winked. “Sure she is.”

Loki just rolled his eyes. This was one thing he would never  _ ever _ be able to tell his brother.  _ Maybe it is better Thor thinks that way. _

Having grown accustomed to the fresh and lighter weather of Alfheim, the walk on the bridge was enough to make Loki sweat under his linen and wool attire. Despite the waterfalls under their feet, the air was heavy and hot. Loki immediately noticed how it was a bit harder to gather his magic here too, Asgard not having the amount of magic and static in the air that Alfheim had. His ears were buzzing, barely letting him listen to whatever Thor and Frigga were talking about. He concentrated on lowering his temperature with magic, not wanting to have an episode barely 10 minutes after his arrival.

“Loki?” Frigga’s voice brought him back to the present. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m sorry…”

“Is the heat bothering you?” Frigga asked, concerned.

“I can manage, mother.” Loki smiled, holding her hand to show her he had already cooled himself. Relief touched her eyes but did not chase away the worry. 

Once they reached the palace gates, Thor lowered Loki’s trunk back to the ground, excessively flexing his arms.

“I think you can handle it from here,” Thor said with a small chuckle.

Loki didn’t say anything, and simply stared at Thor blankly while making the trunk disappear in a flash of green.

Thor glared at him indignantly. “You could’ve done that from the start!” 

“Oh, but how could I deny you the chance to show off?” Loki offered with a smirk.

Thor’s laugh echoed on the halls as he gave Loki one of those signature hugs that made him wheeze.

“We’ll need to catch up later, little brother!” Thor chirped with a smile, set Loki on his feet, and walked down the opposite hall.

“I’ll come later,” Frigga said, giving his hands a light squeeze. “I need to check on your father.”

Loki watched his mother walk away, before he made his way to his room. There was a bit of apprehension in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn’t stop scratching at his fingers all the way there. The door didn’t make a sound when Loki opened it, and he hesitantly took the step inside.

Loki leaned on the door and stared at his room. Everything was exactly the same as it was on the day he left. The same carpeted floor, the same table by the balcony, the same desk with the golden lamps, the same black and green curtains, the same old bed… yet everything seemed smaller and unfamiliar. It was spotlessly clean, not a speck of dust to be seen, but it lacked warmth. Despite the hot air blowing in, Loki felt a shiver run down his spine. This room was full of  _ unpleasant _ memories. Coming back to it was unnerving, like waking up from a long, overly realistic dream.

_ But it wasn’t a dream. It was home. _

This bedroom was everything the old Loki knew, the only sanctuary he had before Alfheim. He could almost feel bits of his soul scattered around the room, remnants of who he used to be when his life held no meaning trying to leach into his mind. If he was going to stay here for months, he needed to reclaim it and make it feel like the new him.

Loki summoned his trunk back and opened it hastily. He took his Grimoire out, placing it on top of the desk, and conjured fresh flowers to bring some sense of nature into his room. The air filled with lilac, jasmine and gardenia scent, with a little touch of sandalwood, to remind him of Erik.

Opening his Grimoire, he read some simple spells. Transfiguration was tricky without the proper concentration, so he started with something simple. Wood was fairly easy to manipulate. In no time, his desk and his bedposts were sporting new designs that made them resemble tree branches. Then he got working on the dark curtains of his window, giving them a lighter color and bright patterns. He wished he could thread it with golden motifs, but that was something to be done by hand and not by magic.

“These are lovely!”

Frigga’s voice startled him as he was sitting on the floor working on his bed canopies. Loki turned to see her examining his work on the window curtain.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

Frigga sat on the velvet couch and silently watched Loki work for a while. 

“You are making me nervous, mother.” Loki felt the blush all the way to his ears.

“I’ve never seen you concentrate this much on something,” Frigga said. “Except reading.” She knelt by Loki’s side and helped him with creating patterns of bright yellow and light blue flowers on top of the green leaves he was designing.

“They look beautiful!” Loki praised his mother’s work.

“I know you are bound to miss Alfheim’s nature and colors.” She said, holding his hand. “I’ve arranged a small lunch in my garden for us today. You are allowed to take some of my flowers for your balcony if you wish.”

Loki smiled up at Frigga. “That would be wonderful.”

“And this afternoon, I’ve been asked to tell you, Thor wants to train with you.”

Loki groaned loudly, and Frigga laughed.

“He might not say it, but Thor did miss you, Loki.” Frigga said, placing a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “He got everything set up at the training pit for both of you.”

Loki shook his head, but couldn’t help the small smile, wondering what was Thor up to.

Lunch in the gardens was pleasant. Loki didn’t fail to notice how much cooler it was, with the water and the trees, and the soft static of his mother’s magic. They mostly discussed his room, and how to improve it now he was back. Flowers and plants were easy if Loki could have access to the queen’s garden. How to get some water flowing was going to be a challenge.

Loki felt better after a lunchtime of sharing his newfound abilities with his mother, and filling his balcony with anemones, callas, chrysanthemums, peonies, lilacs and daffodils. Frigga also taught him the spell to keep his chambers cooler. It would take him a few days to perfect it.

When his new small garden was set, Loki remembered Thor’s invitation. He scoured his closet and got all his old suits and garments, the ones he hadn’t taken with him to Alfheim. Only then he noticed how much he had actually grown. None of those suits would fit him now.

Loki got his leather armor from his trunk, the one he used for combat training in Alfheim.

“This will have to do in the meantime,” he muttered to himself, while changing outfits.

After braiding his hair on a tight single braid, he went to meet Thor at the training pit. Another rush of anxiety flooded his senses. Many of Loki’s worst memories had occurred there.

_ You are not that kid anymore. _

Just as it happened in his room, the training pit looked smaller, and not nearly as menacing as he remembered it. Several Einherjar greeted him on his way to the pit, where he saw Thor already there, with Fandral, and a dark haired woman Loki assumed to be Sif. His suspicions were confirmed when Thor introduced them.

Loki immediately saw why his mother had suggested they would be courting. Sif was not one of those dainty dames of court. Though she was beautiful, she was a warrior, fierce and outgoing with a presence that commanded attention. She was at least as tall as Fandral, with equal musculature, and he was sure that if Fandral removed his armor, they would have similar shoulder width too. Her long, dark hair was braided in a similar fashion to his own, and her armor was somehow both feminine and practical, with a metal torso and cuffs, and short skirt that allowed for free movement. Though her thighs and upper arms were exposed, Sif seemed the type to be strong and skilled enough to not allow any enemy close enough to strike her. 

Loki shook her hand after pleasantries were exchanged, having a feeling Sif wouldn’t go for the customary hand kiss. “Thor spoke of you as if you were a Valkyrie reincarnated,” Loki teased. “I can see why.”

Both Thor and Sif blushed slightly. Thor started stammering while Sif just pressed her lips together. Loki smirked, and went to the arms display to select his weapons for the day. He heard them exchange their goodbyes while he picked two short swords and tested them around.

“You’ve grown bold, brother.” Thor half glared at him, appearing to size him up.

“I’d say you’ve grown obvious, but you’ve always been.” Loki said with a shrug.

Thor laughed loudly. “Let’s see if your daggers match your tongue.”

Thor dragged Loki to the pit and they started sparring. Loki had to use every single tactic on his arsenal to keep up with Thor, as he had trained for the past decade with partners that were fast, but not physically strong. Thor wasn’t as fast, but his biceps were the size of Loki’s head. One strike and he would be done. At least he didn’t have to worry about Thor using magic. And that was his advantage.

Loki tried to keep his magic use to a minimum. He knew not to blast his brother, as Thor wouldn’t know how to protect himself. Teleporting himself was out of the question, as it didn’t come naturally to him yet. He relied mostly on summoning, changing his weapons accordingly to how Thor attacked him.

A small crowd gathered around the pit, unbeknownst to the sparring brothers at first. But the whispers grew louder. Whispers of  _ wizard _ ,  _ cheating _ ,  _ magic _ … and Loki lost his focus. One move too slow and Thor managed to kick him on the side, the blow sending him rolling in the dust.

The small crowd cheered. Thor just smiled at them, and offered Loki his hand to help him up.

“That was very impressive, brother,” Thor praised him.

Loki smiled and took Thor’s hand. But instead of getting up, Loki shifted his weight on the floor and kicked the back of Thor’s knees, rolling to his side. Thor fell face first to the floor and kicked up enough dust on his landing to make him cough.

The crowd snickered, some of them even scowled, but Loki laughed. Thor had to learn one way or another that he couldn’t take Loki down with a few well-placed blows anymore.

“You little--” Thor sputtered the dirt off his mouth, a wry smile pulling up one corner.

Loki was still laughing, holding his hurt side, not able to get up just yet. It wasn’t a bad wound, just one that would heal itself in a few hours. Thor started laughing too, banging his fist on the ground with mirth. The small crowd of people that had gathered to watch didn’t seem to know how to react, looking to one another with confused expressions as the brothers lay on the dusty ground. They had expected a showdown of sorts, for Thor to reassert his strength for his brother’s homecoming. A few picked up on Thor’s contagious laughter, and the atmosphere lightened.

Thor used his hammer to brace against and rose to his feet. He offered a hand to Loki, ignoring the fact that his dirty hair was sticking to his sweat-covered face and neck. Loki reached up and grasped Thor’s forearm, still holding tight to his ribs. They looked into each other’s eyes for a lingering moment, and for that moment Loki allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he finally had a brother again. 

.-

Back in his chambers, Loki took his leather armor off, ready to take a bath. He was examining the new bruise on his left side when he heard a knock.

“Come in.” He yelled, putting on a robe.

A young maid walked in. “My prince,” she said with a curtsy. “The Allfather and Queen Frigga have requested your presence for dinner tonight.”

Loki nodded, and the maid busied herself in preparing a bath while he selected his clothes for the evening. Once the bath was ready, the maid left.

Loki stepped into the water, noticing how the once  _ big _ copper bathtub wasn’t enough to hold his legs in anymore. The bath was too silent for his taste, he missed Gwyn washing his hair while humming tunes, and the sound of the creek that ran right outside his bath chamber back in Alfheim. The silence was overwhelming, and full of bad memories. It made him think, and sometimes he didn’t like it. Least of all now, when he would have to dine with his father.

What would Odin think of him now? Had his animosity toward him lessened? Had Odin actually missed him?  _ That would be a long shot. _

He tried to chase those thoughts away and finished washing himself.

Feeling too lazy to do it otherwise, Loki used his magic to dry up and get dressed. The sun was already setting, so he made his way through the corridors to the sitting chambers of the King. He met Thor on the way.

“My sons!” Queen Frigga greeted them as soon as they entered the room, hugging them both in turn.

Odin, never one for affectionate gestures, acknowledged their presence with a small nod and motioned for them to sit at the table. The maids brought wine and bread for them while they settled.

Loki decided the best course of action would be to remain silent. It worked, for a while. Odin and Thor discussed an upcoming trip to Vanaheim and the fragile relationship with the Niflheim dwarves. Once or twice, Loki wanted to interject, but decided against it, staring blankly at his plate instead. He pushed his food around with his fork, disgusted.

_ It’s like I’m not even here. _

While they finished the first course, Frigga tried to include Loki in the conversation, but even though his suggestions were met with approval by Thor, Odin dismissed them perhaps too quickly.

“It is best if you focus on your... magic lessons.” Odin said with finality.

“I haven’t been taking only  _ magic lessons _ , father.” Loki deadpanned, to hide the offense the blatant belittlement of his studies caused. “My education as a royal continued  _ per your request _ under King Frèyr’s counsel.”

If Odin was to add anything, he was interrupted by the arrival of the second course. Loki went back to eating in silence.

“You need new clothes,” Odin said halfway through the meal.

Loki stared down the table at his father. He couldn’t believe that he had seen him all of fifteen minutes and already he was picking another fight. “What’s wrong with the ones I have?”

“You’re dressed like a peasant. You’ll not be seen looking like that while you’re here.”

“Fine,” Loki grumbled. “I look forward to spend the summer wrapped in leather, and boiling alive. Again.”

“And a haircut as well.”

“I will NOT cut my hair!”

“You’re an Aesir, not a bloody elf!” Odin glared at him.

“Thor has long hair, and braids!” Loki said, gesturing to his brother.

“ _ Thor is a warrior _ ! And you-”

Loki’s chair screeched loudly against the wooden floor, cutting off whatever else Odin was going to say. He heard his father ordering him to come back, but Loki refused. He stormed out of the hall and made way to his chambers, slamming the door shut once he got there.

He slid on the floor against the door, head between his hands, and all of a sudden he was that little frightened boy on the pond once again. Afraid of his powers, afraid of his father’s rage, afraid of disappointing his family. Afraid of what he could do now he had so much more magic available to him. If he lost control, as much as his power had grown, he could probably freeze the entire castle, or summon a whole armory of obsidian weaponry.

His hands were shaking and the hot Asgardian air was suffocating. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, willing himself not to cry.

_ Coming back was a mistake, I am better off in Alfheim and my family is better off without me here. _

Loki was throwing his notebooks back into his trunk when something caught his eye. A square box, wrapped in brown paper and twine ties. He opened the package hastily, finding a beautiful and elaborated painting of Erik and himself, sitting by the frozen lake, holding hands. He recognized Sigyn’s hand and magic in it; she loved the crafting of moving portraits and was very good at them. Loki felt warmth come back to his heart as he watched the image of Erik laying his head on his shoulder and Loki bending down to kiss Erik on his head, and hugged the piece to his chest.

Loki took a deep breath that successfully calmed him down, and traced his fingers over the Erik on the portrait. It hadn’t been a day yet, and he already missed him more than he could put into words.

A soft knock on the door startled him, and he put the painting away right before Frigga entered the room.

“You missed dessert,” she said, leaving a piece of blackberry pie on his desk. Only then she noticed what Loki was doing. “Loki?”

“I shouldn’t have come.” Loki muttered with a quiver in his voice. “I’ll be going back to Alfheim in the morning.”

Frigga sat on the floor beside Loki and hugged him.

“Why am I never good enough for him?” he asked. “No matter what I do…”

Frigga bit her lip, hopelessly lost of words. She had ran out of excuses for Odin’s behaviour.

“I already told you this, but you’ve grown so much,” she said instead.

“It feels like I’m 100 again, to be honest.” Loki chuckled sadly. “I come back and nothing has changed… Part of me knows I’m not  _ that kid _ anymore, and still, I feel like him. Terrified. Powerless.”

“You  _ aren’t _ that kid anymore. And this is still your home, Loki. We are still your family.” Frigga took both of Loki’s hands. “The first thing you did when you arrived was to reclaim this very room. You can rewrite your story here as well, with a little patience.”

Loki sighed, giving his mother a weak smile. “I guess I can’t use magic for everything.”

“Tell me about this boyfriend of yours,” Frigga said softly, after they had caught up and Loki had calmed down more.

Loki looked at her confused. “Erik?” Frigga nodded. “Well, he’s-”

Not knowing how to even begin to describe Erik, or what he meant to him, Loki showed his mother the portrait Sigyn had made, and told her of little moments like the one depicted. Frigga lightly ran her fingertips over the brush strokes with a soft smile. A little of the weight on Loki’s shoulders lifted, but he still needed to say what he had been thinking for years.

“I know he’s not exactly what is expected from me.”

“Does he make you happy?” Frigga asked.

“Yes.” Loki answered immediately. There was no question, no doubt about it.

“Then I am happy for you.” Frigga kissed the top of his head. “Love is something for which the heart can not be legislated. If anyone can vouch for that, it’s me,” she said with a smile. “Your father is… well, he is many things, and ‘compassionate’ used to be one of them, believe it or not.”

Loki laughed, picking at his thumb nail. “Being away from Erik feels like my heart is somewhere else. I only want to be where he is. I find it hard to believe father possesses the capacity to feel that way. He would never understand.”

“He will come to see you for the wonderful person I know you are, Loki. You need to just enjoy the time you have here, and try not to take what he says personally. You are your own person now. I’m proud of you, Thor is too. Eat your pie, and then get some sleep. You will feel better in the morning.”

With that, Frigga left. Loki followed her advice, actually enjoying the blackberry pie. After all, it was his favorite. He knew she was right, that he was no longer the scared child he used to be, and he resolved to try to take his father’s comments with a grain of salt, as antagonizing as they were.  _ If Odin would only put the same effort into not hating me so openly. _

Magically removing his clothes, Loki laid in bed still holding the portrait. He closed his eyes, picturing Erik lying next to him.

_ Just... remember what you have here, Loki. _

Loki could hear Erik’s voice in his head as clearly as if he was right there by his side.

_ Whenever they get you down or they don’t appreciate you enough, remember what you’ve built here. _

Rolling to his side, cursing the silence of the castle, he fell asleep some time later with the portrait under his pillow.


	12. Diplomacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asgard is boring.

Loki’s days in Asgard were, to say the least,  _ dull _ .

After that first catastrophic dinner, Queen Frigga worked on compromises from both parties. Loki agreed to get a new wardrobe for the duration of his visit and Odin didn’t insist on a haircut, to Loki’s great relief. He could  _ see _ Gwyn traveling all the way to Asgard just to scold Odin for ruining her hard work.

The next few days he spent at the tailors and blacksmiths, getting new clothes and new armor, and he was grateful for the distraction. The palace had already sent the designs, but Loki managed to convince the makers of a few changes, and favor leather wherever it was possible, keeping the heavy restrictive plate to a minimum. Loki knew Odin sent instructions to emulate Thor’s armor, which was good for handling swords and shields, but not daggers. The blacksmith was more than happy to oblige to Loki’s requests, and crafted a beautiful light armor out of golden plate, black leather and green linen. The design was protective but light and allowed freer movement than if he had been encased in metal like his brother.

The specifics from the palace also included a golden ceremonial helmet, with horns that protruded from the forehead and curled up high above his head. But that one was relegated to the darkest part of Loki’s closet where he could forget he ever saw the thing. It was far too garish for his taste, and he would not be caught dead wearing it.

It didn’t take long for Loki to realize how much he craved to be around Erik, to have his unwavering support and feel the warmth of him in his arms. The letters he got every week weren’t enough, but they were better than nothing, he supposed, and they motivated him to keep busy, if only to pass the time faster and stay away from his father.

Loki began to spend his days sparring at the training pit, getting some mobility on his new armor. Or in the library, where he constantly complained about the lack of seidr material and the biased history. Or with his mother, either practising or working on their gardens. It took them a few weeks, but Loki and Frigga figured out a way to get a small creek running on Loki’s balcony, giving him the ambient noise he needed to sleep properly at night.

Spending time with Thor was hard. Loki wasn’t interested in raiding the local tavern on a daily basis, not with Thor’s friends anyway. He wasn’t about to forget all the pain they caused and he was horribly amazed of how indifferent they were to the damage they had inflicted, acting all friendly and chatty, as if nothing ever happened. Loki gave it a try after much begging from Thor, and proceeded to spend the night transfiguring the ale in Fandral’s tankard to lemon water. His simple trick earned him a few laughs from Thor and Sif, but after that he decided to wait to drink with Thor until he was away from his brutish friends. Sif was agreeable enough company but there were times Thor only had eyes for her when she was around, and Loki would be the odd one out.

One particular evening, several weeks into his visit, Loki sat across from Thor at their usual tavern, staring down into his half-full tankard of Asgardian mead with a frown. The drink was bitter compared to the sweet brew typical of Alfheim, but Loki wasn’t drinking for the taste. Thor, picking up on Loki’s mood, tried to perk him up.

“Why don’t you come with us to Vanaheim?” he asked Loki, knowing the answer but putting forth the effort regardless. “Get out of the castle for a while without worrying about your studies.”

Loki peered up at Thor, his grip on the tankard’s handle tightening. “You know how much of a bad idea that would be. Father has not extended an invitation to me, nor do I expect him to, and I will not ask for one.” He saw Thor’s hurt expression, so he removed some of the bite from his voice and continued. “Besides, as future King, this trip is more for you than I. My time will be well spent studying and keeping Mother company. Just wait until you see the brood of daughters the Vanir Queen has. You won’t miss me.”

“I  _ will _ miss you! Who better than yourself to give me advice on princesses?” Thor winked. Loki rolled his eyes but gave him a small smile.

.-

_ Tadpole, _

_ I still find myself thinking only of you when I wake, missing your reassuring touch when I suffer my father’s indifference, craving your lips before I go to bed at night. Asgard, for all its beauty, feels empty and dull without you.  _

_ My brother is currently on a diplomatic trip to Vanaheim with my father, so the castle is so quiet and peaceful these days that it has allowed me to spend more time in our library for extra study and practice time. It is truly a shame how much is missing from our archives. Almost the whole of Alfar history is gone, and the scholars stopped getting books from Midgard centuries ago. Matters in the palace are just as tense as always when it comes to my father, so he has not listened when I advised him to continue to build the library’s collection.   _

_ Regarding Thor, I wish that you could see how adamantly he still pushes the notion that Sigyn and I are together, or should be. If he only knew exactly how wrong, how blind he is - he certainly inherited Father’s clueless intuition on matters in which he is convinced he is right. Thor is projecting his own infatuation with the warrior Sif onto my life and I will be glad to be away from it. _

_ As the nights here grow cooler and the days shorter, it is a daily reminder that I am closer to seeing you again. For months now I have only been able to get through by knowing I will hear from you soon - but I must express my concern at the extended times between your replies lately. At times it makes me fear the worst, that either we have been found out or you grew weary of loving someone worlds away. Either way, nearly a month has passed since your last letter and nothing would make me happier than to see your neat and precise handwriting, even just a single word on a piece of parchment. Anything to let me know you’re okay. _

_ With love _

_ Longshanks _

_.- _

Loki was getting more anxious the longer Erik failed to reply. But going back to Alfheim was only a few days away, and somehow he managed to convince himself to wait it out. Part of him wished he could depart before his brother and father came back from Vanaheim, but Frigga had already been informed they would be coming back that evening and Loki was to have dinner with them, something he did not look forward to.

Loki left his chambers as late as he could, and walked the corridors slowly. He met a maid on the way, who had been sent to fetch him. He entered the sitting room of the Royal Chambers quietly, avoiding eye contact, though he knew Odin was glaring at him for the delay. Loki didn’t even bother with an excuse and sat down, almost willing himself to blend with the chair’s decoration. He doubted it would make much difference if he did.

“So? How was your trip to Vanaheim?” Frigga asked over the table.

Odin made a concise speech, detailing new trade treaties and dealing with the Niflheim dwarves. Apparently the dwarf King was much more open to negotiations with the Vanir. Loki wasn’t surprised: the dwarves were stubborn and greedy, much like Odin. They would never agree on anything.

Loki’s mind wandered off to his own conversations with King Frèyr, and how he would tackle that problem with Niflheim if it were up to him. Loki came up with a few suggestions, but he knew to keep quiet, since Odin would dismiss him as usual. Thor, instead, was being forcefully made part of the discussion, but Loki could see he struggled with things like diplomacy and basic tact.

_ Maybe that’s what will become of me when Thor ascends to the throne. Advisor to the King. I’ll do the talking and he’ll do the punching. Better than being the second-best, forgotten Prince. _

“Don’t forget the part where you made Queen Frèyja  _ parade _ all her daughters in front of me…” Thor said, mildly annoyed.

Odin scoffed. “It would be a great political alliance. You need to think like a King now, Thor.”

“I don’t think any of them is truly interested in a political alliance, father. Not even the Queen,” Thor said.

Loki chuckled softly. He had met Queen Frèyja and he could affirm without a doubt, she wouldn’t be.

“Besides, only the eldest one is not betrothed still,” Thor added, taking a large swig of his wine.

“Finja has a suitor?” Loki asked without thinking. Thor looked at him, confused. “Queen Frèyja is King Frèyr’s sister, Thor. I’ve seen her majesty and her daughters in Alfheim many times.”

Thor nodded in realization. “Oh, yes. Is she the youngest one? She got betrothed just recently, to an Ulrik, or Beric - something. Of the noble houses.” Thor gulped down the last of his goblet and motioned the maid to refill it. “You must know him, Loki. He mentioned studying in Alfheim.”

“Erik?” Loki swallowed, trying to hide his shock. “Short one with blond hair?”

“That’s the one!” Thor said. “Quite the fuss, but I wouldn’t know why.” He shrugged.

Loki lost all his appetite, but knew better than to say anything. He could feel Frigga’s gaze on him, but he decidedly stared at his plate, pushing the food around.

This had to be a mistake. Thor couldn’t be serious. Maybe it was one of Erik’s brothers and Thor just mixed them up.

_ Is this why Erik hasn’t been answering my letters? He’s on Vanaheim? _

Thor and Odin kept bickering about it, but all Loki could hear was a buzz in his ears. His heart was pounding and his head started to spin. Suddenly, the whole room felt hot, but Loki did his best to keep normal. The subtle touch of Frigga’s hand on his made him realize that the ice spell he kept on himself stopped working in his despair. Loki shook his head and the spell cooled his clothes once again, making him feel slightly better. Though it wouldn’t stop the lingering pain in his chest.

Once he was back in his room, knowing he couldn’t reach Erik, Loki wrote to the next best person.

_ Dearest Sigyn. _

_ I hope this letter finds you well. _

_ I wish I could tell you more, but I am in a hurry. _

_ My father and brother came back this evening from a diplomatic trip to Vanaheim, and Thor had the most outrageous news. Princess Finja is to be married, and her betrothed is Erik? _

_ I would ask him directly, but he hasn’t responded to my letters for weeks now. _

_ I can’t risk sending him a letter to Vanaheim, and my teleporting spells only work when I know the exact location or at least have something to build a tracking spell from. _

_ Please, let me know anything as soon as you can. _

_ Loki. _

.-

Loki spent most of the night tossing and turning, and was surprised by an almost immediate return letter just the next day after he sent his own, the parchment envelope with Sigyn’s seal appearing on his pillow in a flash of gold seidr. Evidently she had been practicing her teleportation magic. Her reply was brief, scrawled hastily in ink that hadn’t even dried before she folded it up. Dots of the ink were splattered all over the paper. With shaking hands Loki opened it and sat on his bed.

_ Erik is all right. It’s best that he tells you in person. _

_ -S _

It was a bright morning, but everything around him grew dark. He clutched the letter in his sweating hands and held it to his chest, trying to focus on the sound of the running water outside on his balcony to steady himself.

_ So it’s true, then. _

When his maid came to fetch him for breakfast, Loki had her send word that he was feeling ill. It wasn’t far from the truth - in fact, his stomach felt like it was turned inside out - but his mother knew him better. Within minutes of dismissing his maid, Frigga knocked at his door and peeked her head inside. Loki waved her in and he saw she was carrying a bowl of porridge with berries and honey for him.

“I’m not hungry,” he said, his back turned to her.

“Just take the bowl,” she insisted, handing it to him before taking a seat next to him on the bed. “Stir it around. Give your hands something to do while you talk.”

“What’s to talk about? Erik is engaged to a woman he doesn’t love and I’ll never see him again once he marries.” Loki found himself stirring the contents of the bowl and staring at the blackberries as they broke apart and melted in the hot mixture. The smell turned his stomach with its sickly sweetness. “It’s not as if there is anything you or I could do about it.”

“No,” Frigga said softly, running her fingers through the long part of his hair in the back in soothing strokes. “But you don’t have to suffer this alone, Loki. You haven’t lost him yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I only mean that you can still make the best of what time you have left with him. Unfortunately diplomacy will always take precedence over the heart when it comes to royal families and nobility - no one knows that better than I - but that doesn’t mean you can’t still be with him while you have time.”

Loki sighed, tears blurring his vision as he thought about running out of time with Erik. He had never given proper thought to their future together, whatever it could be, but he didn’t think their future would be snatched from them before they had a chance to figure it out. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Loki mumbled. “I thought for once in my life something would work out. That I could be happy. And for what? Five years? That’s nothing, a breath of time.”

Frigga lowered her gaze to the floor, sadness creeping across her face. “Better five years of something real than a thousand of hoping something real will become of it.” She looked back over at Loki, who was watching her carefully, and wiped a tear from his cheek. “Please eat, darling, things always feel worse on an empty stomach.”

Loki took a bite of the sweet porridge to placate her and was surprised when his stomach growled as soon as he swallowed. Frigga smiled and stood up, giving him a kiss on the top of his head before departing.

.-

Loki was grateful that the following days he was busy getting all his things ready to go back to Alfheim. He avoided conversation with Thor and Frigga, and took his meals in his chambers. The time finally came for him to leave, and Loki took the walk down the bridge alone at dusk after his goodbyes. Heimdall’s knowing eyes watched him until he departed through the Bifrost.

When Loki landed on Alfheim, Princess Sigyn was waiting for him at the landing site. She told him Erik was waiting at the palace before Loki could ask, and they rode back as fast as they could. As promised, Erik was in Loki’s bedroom, wringing his hands, his face red and blotchy. Sigyn gave the pair of them privacy and closed the door behind her without a word.

Erik ran to Loki and tried to hold him, but Loki stepped back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Erik took a deep breath. “Because I didn’t know,” he said. “Not until my father wrote to me, asking me to go home for the remaining of the season and dropped that bomb over dinner.”

Loki closed his eyes, tears burning to get out. Erik was still explaining something about a confusing situation involving Princess Finja and a stables boy, and an offer made long ago to Erik’s house to be a part of the Royal Family through marriage. Loki knew of such a pact, but they both always thought Erik’s older brother, Stefan, would be the one to fulfill it.

“Loki, you have to believe me, I would’ve never led you on like this…” Erik said, wrapping his arms tightly around a very stiff Loki. “I couldn’t exactly tell them my heart already has an owner, like Stefan did.”

“I do believe you,” Loki muttered, slowly leaning into Erik’s embrace and holding the back of his neck. He buried his face in Erik’s hair, taking in his sandalwood scent he had missed so much.

“Will you be leaving?”

Erik looked up and shook his head softly. “Not yet. I said I wanted to finish what I started. My mother wasn’t happy, but they allowed me to remain here until the end of this course.”

Loki stroked Erik’s cheek. “10 years. It’s not enough.”

“It will never be enough, but it is what we have.” Erik started playing with the strings of Loki’s tunic. “Besides…” Erik gulped hard, mulling over what he wanted to say.

“What?”

“Loki, you  _ know _ this is doomed. It has been doomed from the very start. No matter how much we want this to last forever, it can’t.”

Loki knew Erik’s words were true. Just as his mother had said, diplomacy takes precedence, and it wasn’t just Erik. Loki was a prince, and as prince he was expected to fulfill a role that didn’t allow him to marry Erik, or any other man for that matter. Least of all on Asgard, where such unions were not only frowned upon, but still illegal under Odin’s law.

“We can still make the best of what time we have left.” Loki repeated his mother’s words with a weak smile, and leaned his forehead against Erik’s.

“I love you, my longshanks. Don’t you dare doubt that, ever.”

“I love you too, my tadpole.”

Lifting his chin up, Loki kissed Erik slowly, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him close. Before long, the kisses grew heated and hungry, leaving them breathless.

“Maybe I should - go,” Erik breathed out.

“Not yet,” Loki muttered against Erik’s neck, nipping and kissing the soft flesh under his ear. Then traveled back to reclaim his mouth.

Erik gripped Loki’s shirt, undoing the laces as Loki walked him backwards. Once his knees hit the bed, Loki took hold of his hips and sat him on top of it. Wordlessly, Erik slid his hand under Loki’s shirt, making him break the kiss in surprise. Both were panting. Loki took Erik’s hands, shaking in anticipation.

“I- really-  _ really _ should leave,” Erik repeated, biting his lip.

Loki shook his head, and removed his tunic slowly.

Erik never left Loki’s room that night.


	13. Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware of sad fluff

Soft nips on his neck pulled Loki from his slumber, and he opened one eye lazily. It wasn’t dawn yet, but it was close. The soft pink color of the sky was already evident between the leaves outside his bay window.

“Why must you always do this?” Loki grumbled, trying to bury himself deeper in the covers and away from the light.

"Would you rather I did not spend the night here, then?” Erik teased with a smile.

“Never!” Loki wrapped his arms around Erik and pulled him down the covers. “I just wish you would wait until a decent hour to wake me sometimes,” he mumbled, only half serious, returning Erik’s grin.

Erik turned his back to Loki and faced the window again, watching the colors change from pink to yellow. He smiled happily and wrapped Loki’s arm around himself, just enjoying the little moment. Knowing he couldn’t go back to sleep, Loki pulled Erik close and nuzzled into his neck, appreciating the warmth of his body as he tried to wake up.

“Rise and shine, my lovelies! I hope you’re at least wearing clothes!” Gwyn sang as she entered the room, carrying a breakfast tray.

Loki groaned loudly and pulled the covers over his head. Erik giggled and got off the bed with little resistance, going to pick on the breakfast tray.

“Wash first, then breakfast, blondie! Off you go!” Gwyn barked, ushering him to the bathroom. “Time to get up, your majesty,” she insisted, pulling the covers from the bed. Loki waved his hand and conjured the heavy blanket back over his body, only for Gwyn to tear it off again and tap the bottom of his foot. “Don’t make me drag you into the bath, I’ll make it nice and cold for you!”

Loki rubbed his eyes and conceded, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and turning to watch Erik as he washed his hair under the tap in the bathtub without getting in. He smiled, admiring the curves he was getting a good view of, and managed a laugh when Gwen yanked him up by the hand. “All right, all right, I’m up,” he groaned, giving her a wink for good measure. 

Erik’s presence in the palace had become a constant. Now that he was taking many different courses in the Sanctum, trying to advance as much as possible before he had to leave, there wasn’t much spare time for them to enjoy. And Loki just wanted to have him as close as possible, throwing all caution to the wind. 

He was unprepared for the consequences of his carelessness, however, and it almost cost him dearly when a highborn Aesir tried to make a fool of him on a night he and Erik had escaped prying eyes to spend time together in their usual spot in the tavern.

The pair were sitting across from each other at their table, their ankles linked in the shadows as they talked, when the surly man’s slurred voice rang out across the large room.

“Well, if it isn’t the unwanted Prince of Asgard in the flesh, snuggled up to the princess’s boy toy!”

The idea of Erik courting Sigyn had been proposed before. Loki was against it, convinced they could keep the secret. But Erik’s constant presence at the palace had sparked many rumors. Rumors that, for Loki’s own sake, needed quenching. Nothing formal had come from it yet, though, so Loki and Erik were at least surprised to find out the rumors had reached Asgard.

“Hey there, blondie,” he slurred, swaggering over to their table. “Whatever you charge for the unworthy prince, I’ll pay double.”

Seeing red, several different retorts flashed through Loki’s mind, most of which involving some form of torture or punishment for his insolence, but what little sense he could still muster advised him not to make a scene. Any mark against his reputation could bring down wrath from his father, and the last thing Loki wanted was to give Odin a reason to pull him out of the Sanctum and force him to come back.

Loki straightened his spine and met the man’s eyes with stoic confidence that hid his pounding heart. “Unless you have business with me, and I suspect you don’t as this is a tavern and not the royal chambers, I suggest you adjust your tone and tend to your ale,” he said firmly. 

The man ignored Loki and leaned over to brace his hands on the table, sizing Erik up with his eyes.

“Oh, you are a pretty little royal boytoy!” The man sneered. “I might not be a royal, but I assure you I know how to wield my magic staff better than this  _ wizard _ .” He grabbed Erik’s hand harshly, making a move for his crotch.

Three steps and one swift move later, Loki had the man against the wall, a gleaming lack blade poised on his throat. It took Erik several pulls on his arm to get Loki out of his rage induced frenzy, but Loki only snapped out of it when he saw the blade in his hand. Gulping hard, he made it disappear. It had been years since the last time a blade appeared out of his control.

“Loki, please,” Erik said. “He’s not worth it!”

Loki looked around and took a deep breath, knowing he had to keep his emotions at check. That black blade worked as a stark and blinding reminder of how bad things got when he lost control.

“The princess’s honor is not something the Alfar take lightly,” Loki said, trying to convey an air of authority. “If you make such accusations about her courtier, you offend her too.”

Hearing Loki’s affirmation made the other patrons stand by Loki and Erik, and the Aesir was less than politely invited to leave.

“Loki, let’s leave too…” Erik said quietly.

They were drawing too much attention to themselves, and Loki could hear the whispers of both incredulity and support. Being practised in the art of hiding his feelings, Loki straightened his robe and paid for the drinks, exiting the tavern with Erik on his tail.

His long strides caused Erik to be nearly running to his side, but never catching up. Loki ignored Erik’s pleas for him to slow down and his hurt expression when he refused, until they were inside the castle walls, safe from prying eyes. Still not talking, Loki and Erik went to Sigyn’s chambers, to tell her what had happened and for Loki to finally agree to the ruse they had proposed.

They also agreed on no official announcements, just more visibility, as they could not know how or when Vanaheim would make Princess Finja’s wedding public.

Loki was still angry about the aesir man at the tavern, and knowing he would have to share Erik outside the walls of the castle didn’t improve his mood. He made way for his own room. He could hear Erik behind him, talking to him, but he was too wound up to answer.

“Are going to talk to me?” Erik blocked Loki’s path.

“What is there to talk about?” Loki muttered. “You guys were right…”

Erik shook his head. “I’m talking about the cursed blade you summoned.”

“What-”

“The necrosword, Loki!” Erik insisted.

Loki looked at Erik, utterly confused. He had heard of such blades, but he never realized his own knife was one. Loki had told Erik about his previous attempts on his life, but the detail about the weapon wasn’t something that worried him. He shrugged it off.

“It’s nothing,” Loki said with finality. “Don’t worry about it. I have it under control.’

Erik seemed less than convinced but in the interest of the short time left in their relationship he let it go.

.-

Watching Erik pretend to court Sigyn proved to be harder than Loki thought. The first few times they kissed in public made Loki’s insides burn with jealousy, and he would ignore Erik for a few hours. Loki refused to say a word to him that afternoon until they were in his chambers, and Erik snuck his way like a cat into Loki’s lap.

“You know I love it when you get jealous…” Erik mused, earning an offended grumble from his boyfriend. “But it only implies holding hands and a few kisses from time to time.” Erik tried to hold Loki’s hands, but Loki clenched his jaw as the image of Erik kissing Sigyn flashed in front of his eyes. “Don’t be like that… This is necessary!”

Begrudgingly, Loki admitted Erik was right. He knew it was for his own good, more than Erik’s or Sigyn’s. So he would look the other way when Sigyn showed Erik blatant attention and no one was the wiser when Erik would spend nearly every spare minute at the castle, exploring what love was supposed to be like with Loki. Loki learned many things from Erik, about love, trust, intimacy, respect, self worth… 

And pleasure. Loki wanted to drown in the pleasure he took from Erik’s presence, each touch and heated kiss, to let it consume him as often as was possible so he wouldn’t have to think about each time they were together ticking them ever closer to their separation. He would lie awake at night, holding Erik close as the hours passed, fighting sleep, for his heart believed that if the night did not end then morning would never come.

Months became years, and the changing seasons were a stab to Loki’s heart. For once in his life he was  _ happy _ . He couldn’t even begin to imagine what would life be without Erik by his side. He tried to ignore the deadline as much as he could, but time was cruel and swift. More than once he thought about breaking up his relationship, just to save himself the heartache of letting Erik go. But love doesn’t work that way, Loki would learn. The more he wanted to leave Erik, the tighter his heart clung to him. Every attempt of ending it only led to them tangled between the sheets, dreading what Gwyn would say about the mess the morning after.

A few months before Erik’s departure, his facade with Sigyn also had to disappear. Announcements were made in Vanaheim about the upcoming wedding of Princess Finja. An invitation was even sent to Loki himself, as part of the Aesir Royal Family, and he tore it to pieces.

Erik found Loki sulking on the bay window that evening, the torn paper scattered like confetti on the floor by his side. He recognized what it was immediately. Without a word, Erik climbed up and nestled himself between Loki’s legs, head on his chest, and just hugged him.

Around the same time, Loki started having nightmares again.

It was quite the feat to explain to Erik why at least once a week they would wake up in the middle of the night covered in frost, despite Erik knowing about Loki’s intolerance to heat and several episodes of freezing soup pots, juice jugs, and a pond. Once or twice, Erik could’ve sworn Loki’s fingers were turning blue, but it was so fleeting that he blamed it on the dark and lack of sleep.

Erik took it on himself to take care of Loki when that happened, preparing a bath with his favorite relaxing oils and holding him close until he fell asleep again.

At last, too soon, came Erik’s last day on Alfheim.

.-

Loki’s hand laid heavily on his apple-shaped doorknob and turned it slowly, the creaking of the hinges echoing in the long hall. His eyes trailed up the floor as he entered the room and his heart nearly stopped dead in his chest when he saw who was sitting in his bay window.

Tears burned in Loki’s eyes as he took in the lithe form of his beloved. Erik looked somehow more beautiful than ever, his silhouette illuminated like a spirit in the light of the late spring moon. Loki had thought he would never see Erik again, as that day had been the last of the term and Erik had to go back to Vanaheim to wed a girl he did not love. All day at the Sanctum they had not had the opportunity to have a minute alone and Loki had been heartbroken to discover Erik had had to leave early. There had been no chance to truly say goodbye to him.

_ But he’s here. _

“Are… are you really there?” Loki asked, praying with all his heart that his mind had not conjured a cruel illusion to assuage his grief. Erik stood up and took a few steps toward him, his hand outstretched. 

“You tell me.”

Loki swallowed the lump in his throat and walked across the room toward the window, his trembling hand extended. He held his breath, his heart pounding as he closed the distance between them, and immediately grasped Erik’s hand in both of his as soon as his hand touched tangible flesh. Tears flowed down both of their faces, and Loki could hardly catch his breath, so happy he was to see Erik and touch him, even if this was the last time. He sighed, taking Erik in his arms and burying his face in his soft, unkempt blond hair. After a few moments Loki pulled back and rested his hand on the back of Erik’s neck, his other hand holding one of Erik’s against his chest. He gazed into his boyfriend’s green eyes in the dim light, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

“Why are you here? How?”

Erik reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind Loki’s ear. “I don’t have to leave until morning. No one knows I’m gone.”

“Erik…”

“Loki, I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to you. If there was any other way I wouldn’t go at all.” Erik laughed, sniffling as he wiped a tear from his cheek. “Part of me wanted to ask you to run away with me but that’s not fair to you. You’re a prince.”

Loki leaned down until his forehead touched Erik’s. He drew in a slow breath, squeezing their joined hands together as hard as he could. “I would renounce my title before my father, before my brother, before the whole of the Nine Realms, if it meant I could be with you,” he said, his voice cracking with still unshed tears. “It means nothing without you. Nothing. I love you more than life itself, my tadpole.”

“I love you more, Longshanks.”

“Not possible.”

Breathless with a thousand raging emotions, Loki pulled on the back of Erik’s neck until their lips met in a desperate kiss, all tongues and teeth and fingers pulling through hair. Erik’s hands drifted to Loki’s tunic and pulled on the strings to loosen it, sending a jolt of surprise through Loki’s body when warm fingertips touched his chest. Loki was no stranger to Erik’s gentle touch, but this time there was more behind it, a burning desire, a need to be closer, before it was too late.

Loki pulled his shirt out of his trousers and over his head, discarding it on the floor. Erik raised his arms, smiling wickedly as his eyes raked over Loki’s bare torso, and Loki pulled his shirt off too. Before Erik’s tunic hit the floor Loki’s lips were on his throat, tracing a path down to his collarbone. He wanted to leave a mark, something for Erik to see later, but it was too risky to do so on such a visible location, so he decided to hold off. Instead he let his kisses trail lightly over Erik’s skin across to the other side of his throat, one hand on the small of his back to press him closer. He smiled as Erik’s breathing became shaky.

Dawn was hours away, and Loki was going to take his time.

.-

Loki woke up the next morning to a semi dark room. By some spell or by coincidence, the usually warm weather was bleak and cloudy, not allowing the sun to shine. It made Loki think it was still early, that it wasn’t sunrise yet.

But the hour was later than he thought.

Erik was already gone.


	14. Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki learns a new trick.

Sigyn almost slipped on the floor a few times, her teeth clattering as she walked as fast as she could down the hall. Gwyn was at Loki's door, but she made no attempt to open it, as it was frozen shut. Sigyn gave Gwyn a sad look and used her own magic to unfreeze the door.

She walked in slowly, trying to make as little sound as possible, and closed the door behind her. The sight that greeted her was heartbreaking. Loki was sitting on the bay window, knees bent to his chest and head between his arms. Large spikes of frost seemed to be blossoming from his body as he silently cried, his chest heaving with each sob. Even the large window overlooking the river was frosted over, and it was late spring. Sigyn unwrapped her cape, throwing it over Loki’s shoulders. He looked at her, eyes red and swollen and gleaming with tears.

“What are-” Loki didn’t finish his phrase, and gasped when he noticed the ice all around him.

“Yeah, you froze the hallway all the way to my room, too,” she said with a small smile.

“I’m sorry.” He gulped. “I can-”

Sigyn shook her head and evaporated the ice on the cushioned seat so she could sit down, pulling Loki to her lap. “Come here.”

Loki curled up to her as he would to his mother and sighed deeply, fighting back the fresh wave of tears behind his eyes. “I didn't think it would be this hard,” he admitted. “I had ten years to say goodbye to him but I'm… I'm not ready. It feels like he took the whole of my heart with him.” Sigyn stroked his hair as he spoke and let him talk, knowing it wasn't easy for him to let her see him this way. “I would say I want to die to escape the pain but that would only put me that much farther from him,” Loki finished with a loud sob.

“It's been less than a day,” Sigyn reminded him. “You can't very well expect yourself to stop loving someone in the span of a few hours. Give yourself time.”

Loki let out a cold laugh. “Time. I have plenty of time. All any of us has is time. Time is limitless. Bountiful. Forever. But there is only one Erik.”

“Love is limitless too, Loki.” She soothed him. “Erik will always have a special place in your heart, you won’t ever forget him and you shouldn’t. The day will come when you will allow yourself to love again.”

“If it hurts this much-”

“Would you rather erase everything you had with Erik, just for you not to hurt right now?”

Loki sat up and looked at Sigyn, his brow furrowed. “No! Never! Erik is the best thing that’s ever happened to me!” He closed his eyes, fresh tears burning to come out. “That’s why it hurts. It doesn’t feel like anything so good could ever come again.”

“Then cry, let yourself grieve. You won’t be any weaker for doing so.” Loki put his head on her lap again. “One day your heart will be ready to give itself, not to another Erik, but to something just as good, maybe even better.”

It was the logical thing to say, and it was so like Sigyn to say it, but Loki’s heart refused to listen to logic. He felt like such a fool to have allowed himself to fall in love as though he and Erik existed in a vacuum where nothing could touch them. Having Erik had made him feel invincible, and the greed of his heart had left him with a crushing ache and emptiness in his chest and his powers out of control.

Once Sigyn left Loki’s room, after he had calmed down and the two used their combined magic to get rid of all the ice, Loki had decided what he needed to do.

He was going to take back control, of his life and his heart.

It was a slow process, too painful at first. There were nights when Loki would still cling to his pillow and cry himself to sleep, or he would wake up covered in frost and have to soak in his tub.

Outside the castle he had to perform like nothing was ever wrong with him. His relationship with Erik had been a secret, but the rumors existed anyway. Once Erik was presented as the Vanir Princess’ fiance, and then husband, Loki could feel everyone’s eyes on him, trying to catch the most minimal change in his behaviour, waiting for him to trip up or break down. He knew he couldn’t let that show. He knew he had to play it like losing _ just _ a good friend, plastering a smile on his face and going about his day as if his heart wasn’t shattered.

Unsurprisingly for everyone but himself, Loki found in Sigyn the emotional support he needed. The sole idea of telling all this to Thor was risible, and his mother was too far away to help him. Sigyn became his confidant, the one to hold his hand when people got to him, the one to ground him when he felt despair, the one to melt the ice around him when he lost control, in more ways than one.

She became more than a friend, a sister.

Loki’s broken heart took a few decades to mend. But as time passed, the pain became easier to handle. Despite the inherent danger of it, he would still exchange letters and gifts with Erik in secret, but as Erik’s responsibilities and duties as a member of the Vanir royal family increased and his own studies got more and more demanding, the frequency of their correspondence lessened until one day Erik didn’t reply.

Loki, not wanting to push it, didn’t write again either. 

He ventured some other partners, but was maybe too careful with his heart and his feelings, so most of those affairs turned out to be fleeting and short, burning out before they had a chance to take hold. Soon Loki developed a reputation as class heartbreaker.

Maybe it was better that way.

Still, Loki was happy to concentrate in his craft and keep his mind busy and sharp. He was well on his way to become a skilled seidr warrior, having mastered summoning and teleporting. He was most intrigued with shapeshifting too, but it was hard, a skill that took even experienced practitioners decades or centuries to hone. Master Indilwen was a great teacher, but Loki lacked patience. They had started slow, transfiguring and transmuting inanimate objects, such as his own clothes, then plants and small animals, with various degrees of success. His lack of focus became another unique problem; unless he managed to concentrate on one single form, he’d end up with some extremely bizarre creatures. That rat with a tiny wolf head was probably his favorite.

Most of his evenings, Loki spent time in his room trying to gather his seidr and concentrate on one single shape to shift into. He really wanted to get it this time. He would be visiting Asgard in a couple of months and he wanted this trick done to -  _ show off _ , basically.

He had managed to shift parts of his body, and revert the effect. But every time he was successful in shapeshifting his whole being, it lasted only for a few seconds before wearing off, leaving him drained.

Loki groaned, exasperated. Maybe animals were too far off his normal shape to work yet.  _ Think of something simpler. _

Loki took a deep breath and tried to keep his mind focused. He felt the static of his seidr ripple on his skin and his muscles, but nothing was changing. He clenched his jaw and balled his fists. In his head, the will to make it work clashed with his self doubt. He began to feel something cold run over his body, and he feared he was losing control again.  _ But I’m so close! _

In an attempt to speed the process, he let go of the emotional leash he usually held his magic under and his seidr burst forth from within him, knocking him to the floor as if something had hit him squarely on the chest.

Loki gasped loudly, trying to breathe again. The soft static of his seidr still thrummed over his skin, making the little hairs stand on end. Gaining some focus, he looked around his room to see large spires of frost all over the floor and walls. He groaned loudly and stood up slowly, willing his magic to melt the ice.

When he stood again something was off.  _ Why do I feel shorter?  _ He felt lightheaded, sort of disconnected with himself. Something about his body wasn’t -  _ right _ . Maybe this time he had been successful?

Ignoring the dizziness, Loki ran to the nearest mirror, tripping over his own feet in the process. When he saw his reflection, he nearly choked watching his own familiar eyes looking back at him from another body.

“I DID IT!”

He had finally shapeshifted!

.-

Sigyn was in her room, reading and scribbling on her own grimoire as she did every evening before dinner, when she heard a soft but insistent knocking on her door. Before she could answer, it opened just enough for a head of black hair to peek inside before they came in and closed it behind them. Whoever it was had on Loki's clothes, but the pant legs and the sleeves were much too long, and the shoes fell off their feet as they crossed the room to her with wide - and familiar - eyes.

Shocked into silence, Sigyn could only stare with her magic gathered in her hands and wait for the intruder to speak. Finally, after a few deep breaths, they laughed and put their hands on their hips.

“I need your help,” they whispered with a feminine voice. “I was practicing my shapeshifting and…  _ this  _ happened! Now I’m stuck!” A wide gesture over their entire body made Sigyn look closer at their face. 

She knew those eyes and those cheekbones anywhere.

“ _ Loki _ ?!”

Loki sighed. “Yes! Can you help or not?!”

Sigyn laughed loudly and rose from her chair, approaching a very annoyed Loki cautiously, as the air around him was still charged with his magic. “The masters warned you against using such advanced transfiguration without careful instruction,” she teased him. “Let’s see the damage.”

Loki rolled his eyes as she came closer. Where he had been tall and gangly before, he was now  about her height and his body had filled out with curves. His once-sharp facial features were softer and his lips fuller. Sigyn couldn’t help but appreciate his new, if temporary, form, and she couldn’t stifle a laugh when she thought about how he may learn a thing or two from this about being a woman.

“ _ Well? _ ” 

“Before you ask, no, I can’t change you back. You've been studying this longer than I have, and I’ve barely touched on it myself.” Loki sighed impatiently as she placed her hand on his shoulder. “Looks like you're stuck this way until you talk to Master Indilwen.”

“She’s the one who told me to wait before attempting a full body transformation.” Loki deadpanned, knowing his tutor wouldn’t be pleased at all by this.

“Well…” To her credit, Sigyn was trying not to laugh, but it was impossible.

“Don’t say it!” Loki looked down at his body and crossed the room to sit on Sigyn’s bed. “Just… don’t.” He sighed deeply and buried his face in his hands. “I am supposed to go home at the end of term. I can't go looking like this.”

“You look lovely.”

“I have breasts!” he squealed.

"Yes, and they are very nice,” Sigyn said with a chuckle. Loki glared at her. “Come on, being a woman is not that bad!”

“My father already believes me to be the lesser son. This...” He crossed his arms over his ample chest, or attempted to, before settling them on his lap. “I'm going to be a laughingstock.”

“Not if you walk in there with your head held high,” Sigyn pointed out, her face red with holding back her giggles. “You don't even have to tell them it was an accident. For all they will know, you did it on purpose.”

“ _ Huh… _ ” Loki cocked his head to the side. She was right. They didn’t need to know it was a mistake. He could perfectly say it was his intention and he even had done it before.

When he turned to Sigyn again she was grinning widely, as though she had read the thought process in his head.

“Oh no…” Loki gulped hard: he knew that grin.

“Oh, yes.” Sigyn chirped with glee. “It’s time for you to learn how to be a girl, Odinson.”


	15. Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The misadventures of Lady Loki.

Loki was not looking forward to going back to Asgard in his current form, but he had promised his mother, and there was no backing out. He had been avoiding coming back for several decades after Erik left, feeling it would be too much for him to deal with his family while heartbroken. Besides, the wedding of the Vanir Princess was to be a sure subject, and he definitely didn’t want to talk about that.

Master Indilwen refused to help him shift back.  _ You got yourself into this mess, you get yourself out,  _ she had said _. You’ll figure it out, don’t worry! _ Yes, he would, but not as soon as he wanted. Even King Frèyr saw it as a valuable learning lesson and refused to help, instead reminding him to make use of the extensive collection of books in the library.

In order to keep the facade that this was intentional and not accidental, Sigyn trained Loki in how to be a proper lady, and Gwyn was most pleased by it. He would never admit it, but he was enjoying it. The heeled shoes were a nuisance, but the dresses and the bodices were a surprising luxury. Even the undergarments were much more comfortable and aesthetically pleasing! Alfheim tailors were skilled and fast, and Loki had a new wardrobe in time for his departure. Sigyn even taught him the basics of makeup usage, but he couldn’t get the finesse of it, so he let Gwyn do it when he felt like wearing some. 

Armed with faux confidence and new garments, Loki arrived on Asgard on the first day of summer. His mother was waiting for him as was their custom, and he braced for her reaction. Frigga was shocked, and Loki rushed to explain his newfound shapeshifting abilities and how he had come to feel comfortable with this particular one. Frigga eyed him suspiciously, but if she wanted to argue the real reason why Loki now possessed a woman’s features, she didn’t.

“You will give Thor a heart attack.” Frigga chuckled.

“Well, that makes it even more fun for me,” he said cheekily.

No mention of what Odin’s reaction would be was made.

The first couple of weeks, things weren't that bad. Loki and Frigga visited the shops, the tailors and the blacksmiths to get Loki proper Asgardian attire. None of them dared question why the prince was now a princess, but Loki did not fail to notice their stares, returning them with silent venom. 

Loki had the distinct feeling that Frigga was the one behind Odin being fairly absent in their day to day lives, for which he was grateful, although slightly hurt that his father hadn't asked to see him in the first place. Loki convinced himself that it was better this way. He had enough with Thor being utterly confused by the whole shapeshifting thing and behaving like an overprotective brother, refusing to train with him in fear that he would hurt him.

“Thor, we’ve trained together for centuries!”

“I know, but now it’s different!”

“Oh, please! Go and tell Sif you don’t want to train with her just because she’s a woman and we’re oh-so-fragile you might break us!” Loki said exasperated. “Let’s see how she reacts to that!”

Thor gulped. “She would hurt me. Badly.”

“Then shut up and train! Properly this time.”

Combat training had been tricky with his new body. He was shorter now, and had flesh in parts where he wasn’t used to. His center of balance had changed as well, but he found himself more flexible and agile once he adjusted to it. Loki found a sort of freedom in women’s armor, which was mostly just a breastplate, vambraces, and greaves, and he could no longer fault Sif for choosing it over the bulky full-body armor designed for men. It didn’t take long for a curious crowd to form around the unorthodox pair the first time they fought this way. 

And it didn’t take long for a couple of men in the crowd to throw distasteful and lewd comments Loki’s way. He tried his best to ignore them, but they were getting under his skin, and he was becoming distracted, which, while training with Thor, was a dangerous thing to happen. He wished he could transfigure those men into pigs right now, seeing they were behaving as such.

Despite the distraction, Loki couldn’t fail to notice how red his brother was turning. Thor moved to attack, but instead of directing the attack to him, sent a bolt of lightning to the rude commenters. The shock sent them flying several feet back and they fell heavily to the floor, grunting and sputtering.

Loki looked at Thor, and he was raging. His jaw was clenched and his brow furrowed, huffing and muttering indignantly as he strode towards the offenders.

“Keep your thoughts to yourselves if you cherish having your heads attached to your necks,” Thor said, threatening the men with his hammer. “Loki is a Prince of the Realm in whichever form he chooses to be, and you will show some respect.”

The men and their companions sputtered several apologies, clearly terrified of Thor. Loki was mostly shocked. First, to see his brother standing up for him like he hadn’t done since he’d left Asgard and second, by the lightning display Thor had conjured.

“Since when can you wield lightning?” Loki asked, when Thor had chased the men away and came back to the pit.

“Oh, this is sort of new,” Thor explained, a smile softening his features once more. “I am afraid it is not my doing, but Mjolnir’s, that has given me the ability to control lightning. So you’re not the only wizard now,” he added with a wink.

Loki wanted to blurt out all the differences between seidr and Thor’s lightning, but he stopped himself. “I imagine it has been very useful,” he admitted. “Thank you.”

Thor smiled awkwardly. “What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t stand up for my sister’s honor?”

“Oh, do shut up.”

Thor becoming an overprotective brother was bothersome most of the time, but Loki was grateful nonetheless. No one dared make fun of him or they would risk the wrath of the elder Prince.

Of course, as the Norns would have it, Loki couldn’t avoid his father forever. 

The first time Odin decided to join them for dinner, weeks after Loki’s arrival, the color drained from the Allfather’s face when he came into the dining hall and saw the raven-haired woman sitting in Loki’s seat. Frigga eyed him carefully and acted like nothing had changed, but Thor was less subtle.

“Are you alright, father? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Clearly Frigga had prepared him in advance, because Odin was able to manage a straight face as he stared at Loki. He cleared his throat and sat at the head of the table, looking to his left where Loki was watching him expectantly. His eyes darted to his wife and back to Loki and he took a deep breath before deciding what to say.

“I see that you’ve, ah, been practicing transfiguration,” was all Odin could muster. The rest of his tirade was still visible in his furious gaze, but it would have to remain there because, as Loki noted smugly, Frigga was staring him down from the other end of the table. 

“Yes, Loki is quite talented, wouldn’t you say, dear?” 

The Queen had left no room to argue, and Loki had to stamp down his laughter that was bubbling under the surface. Odin’s face flushed a deep crimson as he scrambled for a response. Finally, after a few moments’ tense silence, Odin’s expression softened and he stared down into his tankard.

“You look just like your mother.”

Loki and Thor looked confused. Only Frigga noticed the small tremble in Odin’s hands and was quick to add, “Except for the hair, of course!” She smiled. “I’m afraid there aren’t many portraits of my youth in the palace.”

The atmosphere lightened up, for everyone but Odin. Loki did look exactly like Hela when she had been a teenager. Before the wars and the violence, before she became his best weapon and general of his armies, before she had forsaken him and married Laufey. He couldn’t help but notice Loki’s mannerisms closely resembled those of his mother. The way he rolled his eyes, or glared under the fringe of hair… Thor hadn’t been wrong: Loki, in this form, was as if Hela had come back from the dead just to haunt him and his decisions.

At the very least, Odin had the sense to keep quiet for the rest of the dinner.

.-

Weeks into his visit, Loki escaped with Sif to the tavern after dinner. She had become enjoyable company, and a welcomed relief after having to deal with Thor and his  _ manly _ friends.

Fandral had become an issue. His reputation for pursuing after everything with breasts was widely known across the realms, but Loki wasn’t prepared for Fandral to go after  _ him _ . His comments were rude and crass, his stares were tasteless, his wandering hands had to be stopped several times a day. Of course, the spineless prick would behave when big brother Thor was around, but Loki knew Fandral was only waiting for his opportunity the second Thor had his back turned. It was despicable, the way Fandral and the other warriors had treated him all his life, and all of a sudden just because he had taken on a new form he was supposed to just  _ forget  _ all of it.

Sif, of course, agreed with Loki. She had seen it all, and had been on the receiving end of a few of his attempts. The pair were comparing stories about Fandral’s unrestrained whims and Thor’s attempts to rein them in, laughing over their tankards of sweet mead, and for once Loki felt like someone in this realm aside from his mother could actually understand him.

Loki peered over his shoulder when he heard a familiar voice come into the tavern and his smile fell. Tapping his nails against the tankard, he groaned in annoyance as Fandral approached where he thought they were hidden well in the shadows of the back corner, facing away from the door. Fandral’s idiotic flashy boots tapped loudly on the floor and attracted attention that Loki had been trying to avoid. When the warrior’s knobby ring-covered fingers slid across the table toward Loki’s free hand, Loki knew he couldn’t give Fandral an inch.

“What do you want, Narcissus?”

Fandral scoffed, unsuccessfully disguising his confusion at Loki’s insult, and walked around the table to sit on Loki’s other side, his eyes raking over Loki like he was appraising jewelry that he wanted to snatch off of someone’s neck. “Is it such a crime to want to talk to the princess? You  _ are  _ a princess now, right?”

Loki narrowed his eyes at the warrior. “What of it?”

“Oh, nothing.” Fandral leaned in closer, his breath stinking like cheap mead, and gave Loki what he probably thought was a charming smile. “I think we should do something about this…  _ unspoken thing  _ we have going on here.” 

Loki was so preoccupied with Fandral’s greedy expression that he didn’t notice him moving his hand until it was resting on his thigh. Instantly he grabbed the warrior’s wrist and held it firm, squeezing it until the bones ground together and Fandral tried to jerk it out of his grip. 

Sif spoke up, trying to dispel the charge of anger in the air. “Fandral, you need to leave.” Her hand went to the scabbard of her sword and held it lightly, a silent but clear threat.

When Fandral refused to acknowledge Sif, Loki dug his nails into his wrist. “The only thing that remains  _ unspoken _ , you pompous, self-entitled oaf, is the loathing and disgust I have for you every time I am forced to lay eyes on you.” Finally Fandral pulled his hand away and Loki rose to his feet. “Woman or not, I am still a child of the King, and as such you will remember to treat me with respect, lest you find your ever-wandering hands cleaved from your body.”

Loki turned to walk out the door before his temper made anything worse, Sif casting an annoyed glance in Fandral’s direction before joining him. In one last tempt of fate Fandral patted his hand against Loki’s backside with a chuckle. His rage peaked, Loki whirled around, skirts flying, other patrons gasping in shock as he conjured a gleaming black dagger the length of his forearm and pinned Fandral to the wall by the throat with it. He bared his teeth in warning, pressing just hard enough against Fandral’s neck to make sure he knew it was there, but not hard enough to draw blood, though it would likely leave a mark regardless.

“Touch me again and it will be the last time you have hands,” Loki snarled. Fandral made a gurgling noise in response and raised up to his toes trying to get away from the blade, but Loki only pushed it harder.

“Loki.” 

Sif’s gentle but firm voice slammed him back into awareness of his surroundings. It was Alfheim all over again, only this time everyone knew who he was, and there was no keeping this from reaching the Allfather’s ears. Loki vanished the dagger and hardened his expression, backing away from Fandral to put some distance between them.

A smile spread across Fandral’s face as he steadied himself on his feet. “Let’s see you use that silvertongue to get yourself out of  _ this  _ one,  _ princess. _ ”

.-

The morning after was a whirlwind.

Loki was summoned to the Throne room right after breakfast. Odin had been holding audience with several patrons who witnessed what had happened between him and Fandral the night before. Fandral himself was asked to testify, and Loki had to show tremendous restraint not to smash his head on the tiles listening to his blatant lies. Fortunately for him, Sif was there too, her vision and story more accurate.

It wasn’t until after everyone left that Odin let Loki know he knew the real reason behind the turmoil, the necrosword Loki had conjured and attacked Fandral with.

“I thought sending you to Alfheim was supposed to put a stop to your  _ reckless magic _ ,” Odin bellowed from his throne, nearly shaking the ground. Frigga stood firm beside him, her eyes soft as she watched Loki’s unchanging expression. “If they’re not teaching you to control yourself, then why do I bother sending you there to begin with!?”

“I wasn’t out of control!” Loki bristled, trying not to lash out. “Fandral attacked  _ me _ . I was merely defending myself!”

“Now you listen well, Hel - Loki.” Odin sighed deeply and closed his eyes. When he opened them again he looked to his wife, moving his hand out from under hers. “Your mother and I have decided it is best for you to return to Alfheim until such a time that you change back into your male form.”

Loki scoffed. “So you’re sending me off again, early this time, because I’m a woman? You think being a woman offers me no control over myself, is that it?” He shook his head, feeling his hands turn cold and crossing them behind his back. “Very well. Blame me for the way I am treated, just as you always have. I should have expected no more.” 

Before Odin could respond, Loki turned on his heels, vanishing in a swirl of green magic and appearing in his bedroom. Another wave of his hand sent his belongings to his trunk, tucking them neatly inside to be sent off to Alfheim. He knew Frigga would try to talk to him before leaving, if only to dispel any resentment, so in order to avoid her Loki went ahead and teleported himself to Heimdall’s post and left without a word to the Gatekeeper. 

.-

The quietness of the castle was broken by a loud crashing sound, making Sigyn jolt in surprise. She muttered curses under her breath: a long paint stroke was now ruining the otherwise pristine portrait. Another loud crash made her jump from her stool. Gathering her seidr, she walked out and followed the noises to Loki’s room.

“Loki?” Sigyn knocked the half open door and let herself in. “What are you doing here?”

Loki’s fists were clenched, lips pressed in a tight line. His trunk was turned over, its contents scattered all over the floor. It was evident now where the crashing sounds came from. Sigyn could feel the temperature of the room dropping dramatically, fog already clouding the windows and frost forming all around Loki.

“Hey, hey…” She said, standing in front of him and taking his hands. “Breathe…” 

Loki closed his eyes and clenched Sigyn’s hands, practicing one of the many breathing exercises they had learned to control his anxiety. After a moment, Loki sighed deeply, and let go of Sigyn’s hands. 

“Thank you,” he muttered. “I didn’t see many guards outside. I thought the castle would be empty.”

“Almost,” she pointed out. “My father is on Vanaheim, for my cousin Finja’s name day-” Sigyn stopped mid sentence, noticing how Loki pursed his lips. “Yes, I excused myself from that family gathering. Lucky for me, the chancellor has been indisposed for days and couldn’t take over in our absence,” she rambled, getting rid of the weird atmosphere. “Anyway! We have the castle to ourselves and I might have stolen a few crates from the brewery.” She smiled cheekily.

Loki smirked. “Is it berry infused?”

“Of course it is!” Sigyn giggled.

Back in her room, Loki told Sigyn everything that went down on Asgard, up to the fight with his father that very morning, as they drank the stolen mead. Loki was glad to have the distraction of the alcohol. Sigyn looked appalled, yet not that surprised, that Loki had been the one to suffer for Fandral’s wandering hands, though she knew this was definitely not the first time Loki had paid for his brother’s friends’ crimes.

“While I was here, no one batted an eye at my transfiguration.” Loki gulped down the last of his ale, and pushed the bottle at the end of the bed. “On Asgard… everyone had an opinion, everyone had something to say.” Loki bit his lip and uncorked another bottle. “Most of them weren’t nice at all.”

“You know of Asgard’s backwards visions on things. The whole of the Nine Realms do.” Sigyn said. “Were you really expecting  _ men _ to behave? All they do over there is boast their very primitive views of masculinity. I pity the poor women who have to suffer them on a daily basis.”

“I wish I knew enough transfiguration to turn the lot of them into pigs! Especially Fandral!” Loki let out an annoyed grunt. “Please, tell me I was never that crass!” He looked at her, and Sigyn chuckled.

“You’d have to ask Lorelai, or Amora, or Gyda, or Brenna, or Ingrid…” She counted with her fingers, and Loki nearly choked on his ale. “Or maybe even Erik, or Ingvar, or Trygve…”

“I get it! I get it!” He said, stifling Sigyn’s giggles with his hand over her mouth, straddling her thigh.

Loki frowned slightly and looked up into her eyes, promptly forgetting whatever it was he was going to say. Maybe it was the mead talking, but he hadn’t quite noticed just how beautiful Sigyn was before, so soft and inviting and…  _ was he drunk? _

He removed his hand from her mouth. The room was spinning as he sat up, and he barely noticed Sigyn sat up as well. In a flash of boldness, Sigyn closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to Loki’s, sinking into it as she realized how good it felt, how-  _ right _ .

Seconds ticked past, slow as hours, before Sigyn broke away panting. “Okay, that was-”

“Great?” Loki said, holding his breath.

Sigyn held her hand over her chest as if she was keeping her heart from bursting out of it. “I was going to say weird, but it-  _ wasn’t _ ?”

“Maybe-” 

This time it was Loki kissing Sigyn. This kiss was longer, deeper, and more confident. It made Loki’s head swirl, and he knew it wasn’t  _ just _ the mead. He only pulled away when he felt Sigyn’s hand sliding up his side to his left breast.

“Told you they were nice.” Sigyn said softly, but removed her hand quickly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have-” She blushed profusely and pulled away from him. “Perhaps you should leave. We’ve had too much to drink anyway.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah,” a very speechless Loki muttered.

Sigyn cleared her throat and picked the empty bottles of ale that littered her bed, sending them to the kitchens in a flash of blue. Loki stood from the bed and awkwardly watched her for a while before turning to leave.

He wasn’t halfway back to his own room yet when he turned around and stumbled back to Sigyn’s.


	16. Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to go back... home?

 

Loki spent another decade as a woman before he finally figured out how to turn back to his original form and stay that way, much to Sigyn’s dismay. He took shape shifting very seriously after that incident and decided not to go against his tutor’s instructions ever again, though from time to time he was known to shift back and forth whenever he felt like it. 

Once he had mastered the art of transfiguration and moved on to advanced projections and illusions, and even inter-realm teleportation, Loki found himself completely buried in his studies. He was grateful to have Sigyn and Freyr to help him and remind him of what the Alfar had always known, that one must balance work with leisure. Though Loki kept his visits to Asgard short due to Thor's manner becoming more like the Allfather's, he still appreciated the time he got to spend with his mother and the bond they shared with his growing magic.

The years passed with increasing speed as Loki came into himself, his powers stronger and more advanced than anyone anticipated, his physique finally becoming more proportioned with his long legs and arms as he trained in close combat, and his sleek black hair reaching his waist by the time he was ready to graduate from the Sanctum. No longer was Loki the knobby-kneed princeling learning magic tricks. 

After Loki's graduation ceremonies were completed, during his final summer season on Alfheim, he was pulled aside for a meeting with the King on his last evening in the castle.

“Ah, my dear Loki! Come on in,” Freyr greeted him brightly. Loki bowed and, following the king’s instruction, sat across the tea table from him. “How are you doing?”

“I’m--” For all his renewed wits, Loki couldn’t bring himself to lie to the king. “I-- wish I didn’t have to leave.” He wrung his fingers, trying to properly articulate himself. “I wish there was a way to thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

King Frèyr smiled warmly. “Well, there is a way you could come back one day, if you so desire.”

“What do you mean?” Loki asked.

“I mean marriage, my dear.”

Loki hoped he didn't look as shocked as he felt. “ _ What?! _ ”

“I know Sigyn is very fond of you,” the King stated simply. “You’ve grown close during your years here and after seeing the way you communicate with her, I couldn’t possibly think of a better match for my princess.”

“I-I don’t think I’m her type, if I’m honest,” Loki said, slightly uncomfortable.

“I know my daughter’s  _ type _ , Loki,” King Frèyr said with a small smile. “She has yet to be able to lie to me.” Loki’s eyes went wide with surprise. “But I also know my daughter will fulfill her duties as a princess. And that includes marriage.”

Loki just stared in stunned silence. This was beyond any of his expectations,  _ ever _ ! Back on Asgard he was always the spare. No one ever paid any attention to him or what he did, unless he messed up or otherwise did something that singled him out as an  _ other _ . Everyone’s eyes were set on Thor, and who he would choose. He was the worthy one, he was who got all the women parading in front of him.

Suddenly overwhelmed, Loki put a hand on his chest. “Me?” he whispered. “Are you sure?”

“You’ve made quite the impression in the people of Alfheim, my boy.” The King poured some wine for himself and took a long sip before continuing. “I think I can speak for them all when I say how much they appreciate you. You’ve been a bridge between ourselves and Asgard. A connection the elves haven’t felt in a long time. They would be most pleased to have you as their ruler.”

“What about my -”

“Worry not, dear boy, I have already spoken to your mother and she is delighted with the idea,” Freyr assured him. “She will speak to your father and smooth things over. Asgard has its future king, and Alfheim needs hers. I can think of no one better for the job.”

“And can you speak for Sigyn too?” Loki asked cautiously.

“I am sure Sigyn would agree with me.” He smiled knowingly. “But of course, it is not necessary to give an answer immediately. You both are still young and have many things to see before you settle down and get married. My time is not yet up. When you are ready, Alfheim will always be here to welcome you back home.”

Loki let that last word circle around in his head for a moment.  _ Home… _

“I’ll be leaving late this evening so I won’t be here to see you off tomorrow,” Freyr said, interrupting his thoughts, “but Sigyn will probably get up shortly after dawn and the two of you can take the guards to the Bifrost site whenever you’re ready to leave.” The King arose and circled the table, leaning down with his arms wide to hug Loki around his shoulders. At a loss for words, Loki hugged him back silently.

Loki was dismissed after that and he walked, stunned, to Sigyn's room to talk to her about it. Together they sat on her bed and Sigyn braided his hair as she waited patiently for him to talk.

“Your father and I had the most awkward conversation,” Loki finally said, staring at his hands as Sigyn finished off the fourth braid in his long hair. “He thinks we should get married. Later, that is,” he added quickly.

Sigyn sighed, her hands slowing. “Yeah, we had that conversation too.”

Loki looked at Sigyn curiously. “Do you agree?” 

“I’m not particularly  _ against _ it,” she admitted with a chuckle. Loki pushed her slightly with his shoulder. “Thing is, as far as my options go, you are… not a bad one.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It is!” Sigyn giggled. “You’re fun, intelligent, powerful… My father loves you, Alfheim respects you. You’re much better than any other options I see in my future. And you’re my best friend,” she added, taking Loki’s hand in hers. “Father always says that marriage starts with friendship, that it’s stronger than a lover’s love. I love you like I’d love a brother.”

Loki smiled softly at her words. It meant a lot, coming from her, and he felt much the same about her. Over the years he had grown closer to her and saw her as more of a sibling than Thor ever was to him. Perhaps one day he could learn to love her as more than that, but as far as the prospects for his future, one with Sigyn was better than what he could have imagined for himself.

“And you can turn into a woman,” Sigyn teased, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m not getting another betrothed who can actually do that.”

Loki laughed loudly at that, and squeezed Sigyn’s hand. “Then I guess I have to do this right, don’t I?” He smirked, getting down on one knee in front of Sigyn, who shook her head and covered her face with her palm, breaking down into hysterics. “Princess Sigyn of Alfheim, will you marry me?”

Sigyn calmed her giggles long enough to say, “Prince Loki of Asgard, yes I will. Though you seem to be lacking one particularly important item.” She held her hand in front of his face for emphasis.

“Of course!” Loki chuckled and pulled one of the rings holding his braid from his hair, sliding it on Sigyn’s fourth finger. The gold spiral ring was a bit loose on her slender finger but it would work. 

Both of them laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, but felt strangely comfortable as they settled down, the pair sitting back on Sigyn's bed. Loki laid his head down in Sigyn's lap and sighed, looking out her massive window that overlooked the gardens. The sun was starting to set, with tinges of orange and red coloring the clouds, another reminder that his time in this beautiful realm was coming to a close.

“I can't believe this time tomorrow I'll be back in my old room,” Loki lamented. “Back to reality, back to being second best.” He craned his neck to look up at Sigyn, who was staring out the window too. Her amber eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “At least it's not forever, right?”

Sigyn nodded and squeezed his hand. “Right.”

.-

Loki was awakened at dawn by Gwyn's fussing and blubbering as soon as she walked in his room. She apologized profusely and broke down in sentimental tears as Loki arose from his bed and stretched. Placing his breakfast tray on his desk, Gwyn took a look around the almost empty room and let out a shaky breath.

“Oh my dear boy,” she wailed, walking over to Loki and standing on her toes to place her hands on Loki's cheeks, “I've clothed you and bathed you and watched you grow and now you're a bona fide Prince! You and the Princess will make such beautiful babies!” Before Loki could push past his shock that Gwyn was privy to information about his unofficial engagement to Sigyn, she pulled him down until she could kiss him on each cheek. “Promise you won't forget your old maid, huh?” she whispered with a barely concealed sniffle. Tears trailed down her plump cheeks and she dabbed them away with her apron. 

Loki smiled and offered her an enthusiastic nod. “How could I forget someone who is practically like a mother to me?”

“The queen is a great woman, lad, but she never had your hair looking quite like this, now did she?” Loki shook his head, his smile fading slightly. “Now eat, you have a long day ahead of you since you’re going home later.”

_ Home… _

Gwyn kissed him on the top of his head when he sat down at the now-empty desk to eat, and wouldn’t leave until he took a bite of bread. As soon as the door closed again Loki put the bread back on the tray, no longer interested in it, and took in a slow breath. His eyes wandered to the space on the desk to the left of the chair, and he pictured a handsome blond young man sitting there with his legs dangling over the side, begging him not to leave. From there he looked to the bed just over his shoulder and had to push away the memory of the many nights he spent there with the same young man wrapped in his arms. Loki had to fight the cold feeling spreading from his chest as he made himself look elsewhere and settled on the bay window. 

There had been so much ice, so much pain… Many others had had their share of time in his room since then, yet none of them had been able to erase that. Except one.

The chill in his blood warmed when he thought of who had brought him back to himself. She was like a sister to him, but more than that. Kind, beautiful, reserved yet assertive, and ever patient, Sigyn had been there for him at his lowest moments since the day he came to Alfheim. She would make a fine Queen one day, and it brought Loki a measure of peace to think he would be her King when that day came.

_ There are worse ways to spend a few thousand years, _ Loki reminded himself. A smile spread across his face as he imagined coming back here and knowing he could stay forever. 

_ It shall be worth the wait. _

After a long sigh and a determined nod, Loki finished his breakfast while watching the sun come up over the trees. The gentle bubbling of the river and the delicate chirping of birds kept him company until it was fully bright outside, and he knew the time to leave was soon. There was no point in delaying the inevitable, and it would be quite a long task to unpack everything once he got back to Asgard, even using his magic.

As if on cue, rapid footsteps echoed down the hall and got louder as they came closer to his room. Loki was on his feet with his arms outstretched before Sigyn even got the door open, and she bounded across the room and leapt into Loki’s arms, knocking him to the floor with a surprised  _ oof!  _

“Morning!” Sigyn sang brightly, brushing the hair out of Loki’s eyes. They both laughed and she helped him stand back up.

Before he could say anything she wrapped her arms around his chest and held him tight against her. 

“I've decided you're staying,” she mumbled against his chest. 

Loki pulled her away gently by her shoulders, giving her a sad smile. “If only I could, I would,” he said. “Being apart from this realm will not be easy. But when I return, I will be that much happier for it.” He wiped away her tears with his tunic sleeve and took her hand. “Let's go to the Bifrost site before I risk interrealm diplomacy and change my mind.”

Sigyn nodded solemnly. She channeled her seidr and weaved it seamlessly with Loki's in their joined hands, and together they vanished his various trunks to Asgard and teleported to the landing site. When they touched ground again she let go of him, though reluctantly. 

Loki turned to step onto the stone circle, and hesitated, turning to her again. “I know I’m not a woman right now, but… could I kiss you one last time?”

“You can…” she said, leaning in, “but promise me it won’t be the last time.”

He pressed his lips to hers and lingered there, his fingers weaving through her soft hair. When he pulled away his heart was pounding like it hadn't in ages. Finally he made himself step onto the platform, turning away from Sigyn not to see the silent tears she was failing to hold back.

“I'm ready, Heimdall,” he said, so quietly it was nearly a whisper. 

Despite the obvious sadness surrounding this very moment, for the first time in probably his entire life, Loki was heading home with hope in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	17. Asgard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asgard is not home yet.

 

_ Dearest Sigyn: _

_ It is with great woe that I inform you that I have cut my hair. I imagine Gwyn will not be pleased with this, but I could never care for it as she did. And believe me, I tried. If I know you at all, right now you’re rolling your eyes wondering if my father had anything to do with my decision. I believe you know the answer to that, as he has been pestering me from day one to do this. I didn’t want to give in just yet, but even with the help of my magic, all I made of it was a mess. In this weather, though, it's probably for the best. It was getting a bit hot to maintain. _

_ I have been in Asgard for so little time, but it already feels like decades. I want nothing more than to go back to Alfheim. To see you, to immerse in the Alfar world again. I miss the rivers, the lakes, the mountains… I imagine the berry fields must be ready for harvesting. It makes me sad not to be there to taste the first fruits. The castle is too quiet at night without a river nearby and at times I find it difficult to sleep. I had to conjure a fake one in my balcony just to get some rest. _

_ Thor has become nearly unbearable in my absence. I had noticed his mannerisms becoming closer to Odin’s in the past, but without any opposing influence my brother has gone full brute. He talks often of the realms he wishes to keep under tighter control once he is king. Mother ensures that his rants don't go too far, but he treats her word more as a suggestion than wisdom. I fear he may one day become a victim of his own hubris, and the kingdom with him. I've not a clue what Lady Sif still sees in him but they are unbearably inseparable.  _

_ The news of our engagement is still quiet, as mother has not tested the waters of my father's approval yet. Odin appears to be somewhat relieved to have me back where he can see me and has kept his scorn to a reasonable level so long as I keep my nose clean. I suspect if he is not told soon he will either marry me off to a daughter of some random Aesir nobility and have us live in the castle or have me groomed to be the King's right hand when Thor takes the throne. It is with no exaggeration that I admit I would rather fling myself off the rainbow bridge than to do either, so I think I will have to tell him before long.  _

_ I hope to hear from you soon, as I know you are finishing up your last term at the Sanctum and I know you're terribly busy.  _

_ -L _

_.- _

_ Dear Loki: _

_ I don't have to tell you how beautiful the land looks right now, how thick the air is with the sweet fragrance of ripened fruits and honeysuckle. This land is in your blood, and you would sooner forget to breathe than to not think about it. I hardly get to see it these days but I like to go to your old room and sit in the bay window to study. At times I will fall asleep there and I will awake with a start, thinking it's you tapping on my shoulder, but it's Gwyn. Soon I will take my final exams, just a few years out. I don't know how you did it. _

_ You don’t want to know what Gwyn’s reaction was when I broke the news about your hair to her. You’d think the world was ending. Honestly, as good as it looked, I’m surprised you didn’t do it sooner, it must have been so heavy. _

_ I hope the selection of fruits and ale I sent with this letter are to your liking, and that they didn’t end up on your head. I think I will need a sketch or drawing of your room to get familiar with it and pinpoint my teleporting spells, as I am not as familiar with it as you are with my chambers. This will make our exchanges happen a lot faster and no one else can read what we write. It will also help me practice my teleportation techniques. _

_ Maybe one day before long I can visit Asgard, with the King and Queen's permission, of course, after our engagement is known. _

_ -S _

.-

The steady exchange of letters Loki kept with Sigyn was full of funny anecdotes and jokes, and it kept him from losing his mind most days. Lucky for both of them, they had perfected a tracking system so they could teleport letters, portraits and presents back and forth, bypassing the regular system. It helped time pass and it kept Loki’s sense of humor intact on days where all he wanted was to escape royal life.

It wasn’t odd for Loki to wake up to a room full of blackberry infused ale, or daffodils in blossom, and some other seasonal foods. It was quite the feat to explain to Frigga why he had so many turnips in his room before he sent them all to the kitchens. But the Queen knew to keep his secret and would help her son ensure gifts from Sigyn ended up where they needed to go, though Loki did prefer to keep the ale for himself.

The letters were also full of less pleasant things. Loki’s nightmares had made a comeback, and they were getting worse. Visions of him in an icy tomb, surrounded by bright blue cold light, where the most frequent. Other times he would be surrounded by darkness, no wind, no sound, lifeless. Sometimes he could even swear there was something  _ calling _ to him in the dark, but he would jolt awake, covered in frost, before he could figure it out. He spent most of his free time in the library, trying to find an explanation, but most of what he found presented more questions than answers and made no sense.

Loki could not tell this to anyone. Thor wouldn’t care, Frigga wouldn’t be able to help him and Odin would probably berate him for not controlling his powers.  _ As if I could control them while asleep _ . Sigyn was the only person who he knew could trust with this, and though she was too far away to really help him, she still sent him medicinal herbs, sleeping potions (dreamless sleep was better than no sleep, after all) and comfort food he would not find in Asgard. In addition, she would also send copies of manuscripts she thought could help him.

During the day, Loki fell into a routine, keeping his mind busy to keep out of his own head and fill the endless hours of the day. He was obliged to attend certain diplomatic meetings but only as an observer and only to learn more about running the kingdom. Forced to wear his ceremonial uniform  - horns and all - Loki loathed them, but was still far more observant of visiting ambassadors than he let on. It was him who picked up on it each time one would try to lie or trick the Allfather, and after some time Odin wanted to use his skill at every meeting. It was a thankless job, but Loki knew he had to make himself indispensable to gain the Allfather’s trust, so he performed his duty with a sort of reluctant sense of responsibility. For the first time in almost his entire life, Odin stopped insulting him at every opportunity, and replaced his mistrust with indifference. Loki was no longer followed by Odin’s blasted ravens, or by the Einherjar, everywhere he went. 

Even while being used, Loki found a measure of freedom in Asgard at last.

.-

_ My Queen: _

_ It’s been decades and I still can’t get used to being here. _

_ I’ve been made very aware in more than one occasion that this is a world built for warriors, and I am not one of them. Thor has tried to include me in his tiny clique, but he insists on mocking my powers, unless he can make use of them. _

_ “Some do battle, while others do tricks,” he says - but he’s perfectly happy with my “tricks” saving him, and then taking all the credit when an incursion goes well. In any case, is not like Odin would congratulate me, as he dislikes me using my magic when I‘m supposed to be using weapons and considers sorcery to be the cheater’s way. Nothing ever satisfies his impossible standards.  _

_ I must admit that I’ve used magic for more than saving my brother’s behind, though. _

_ Fandral has gotten no more amenable, and wastes no opportunity to make crude remarks about my magic and my shapeshifting. This of course only happens whenever Thor isn’t around, the spineless worm. But I finally got my revenge. _

_ In a recent trip, I suggested I used my female form, as the ruler of said realm was a fierce woman who wanted nothing to do with negotiations as long as Odin or Thor were conducting them. I thought, very accurately, she would be more lenient if a woman was the representative. To everyone’s surprise, except mine, it worked, and now interrealm relations are advancing. _

_ That evening, in the revels of it, Fandral once again tried to make advances on me. This time, I was prepared. I had been working on a little something for some time, and it was the perfect opportunity to lace his drink with a very special concoction. _

_ He spent the next two full days as a pig! His tiny brain managed to keep him safe from the slaughterhouse. Once the effect wore off, he tried to blame me for it, but he had no proof. Besides, it’s not the first time he has gone missing for a couple of days. Most believe his excuses just got out of hand. _

_ I must say, potion making isn’t fun and it will probably never be my strong point, but the results are very satisfactory. Hopefully the goateed swine has learned at least a small lesson about underestimating me. _

_ I believe the time has almost come for my father to be informed of our engagement, though if and when it happens it won’t likely be made public knowledge until after Thor’s coronation, which is at least another half century or more away. But it will stop Odin from discussing my possible marital prospects involving Aesir nobility for the foreseeable future. I will tell you as soon as I am able to do it. _

_ -L _

_ PS: Please, tell Gwyn her blackberry pie was delicious, and that without her here to tell me not to eat it in one sitting, I ate it in one sitting. _

.-

_ My King: _

_ Gwyn is both very pleased and very cross with your message. I could still hear her muttering about your sweet tooth and lack of self control well into dinner time. _

_ I kind of want to feel sorry for Fandral, or at least tell you to make productive use of what you’ve learned. But I’m not going to, cause I am imagining a pig with a blond goatee, and I wish you could have kept some register of it. _

_ As for our engagement, I have no better news than you. _

_ My cousin, Princess Frikka of Vanaheim, has announced her betrothal and upcoming wedding. Every and all announcements will be on hold until after she weds and the new future king is presented. Her fiancé comes from one of the oldest houses on the realm and has been around the royal family probably since he was born. Surprisingly enough, they chose each other, which leads me to believe he must have some integrity and intelligence in him. Frikka is smart and strong willed, she wouldn’t suffer a fool. _

_ I am guessing that for a ceremony of this magnitude and significance, Asgard will be sending Thor in Odin’s behalf. If you want me to, I can brew something to turn him into a goat. _

_ -S _

.-

_ Sigyn: _

_ In an unsuspected turn of events, my father has decided I’m the one to represent Asgard in Princess Frikka’s upcoming wedding. Thor, as usual, wants nothing to do with diplomatic visits or ceremonial commitments, and my father is once again incapable of putting his foot down with him. _

_ I do regret that you will miss the chance to turn Thor into a goat. But there’s always more ceremonies and weddings, including our own, where you can try that out. _

_ I look forward to see you in Vanaheim next fortnight. The prospect of you being there and seeing you again is the only thing that will keep me sane. _

_ -L _

.-

The week leading to the event, Loki found himself excited by the thought of reuniting with Sigyn, and wanted to do something special for her. For this, he enlisted his mother’s help, as he had no clue of where to get the gift he had in mind.

Loki had discussed their unofficial engagement with his mother several times in length, and while he knew the Queen had indeed informed Odin, it was rather odd that the Allfather hadn’t talked to him about it in person.

Loki wanted to question this decision, maybe even talk to his father himself. Odin had always been very adamant in controlling everything in his life. Why all of a sudden did he seem to not care about it? Or maybe he was looking for a reason to forbid Loki from marrying Sigyn, thus stopping him from leaving Asgard for good? Loki wouldn’t put it past Odin to do such a thing. It wasn’t until much later that the reason behind Odin’s silence became clearer.

As much as they tried to hide it, Odin’s dwindling health was a well-known secret. The whispers and rumors had not gone unnoticed by Loki. This only meant the palace would be making arrangements sooner than planned to proclaim Thor as King. Loki couldn’t help but feel bitter about it: as usual, he was being pushed aside for his brother to shine.

Yet, he had no time to dwell on it. Diplomatic trips weren’t something Asgard took lightly, least of all now, when such an important ceremony was involved. Loki had to get a proper outfit, take time to study and relearn some of Vanaheim ceremonial etiquette, and find Sigyn her gift.

When the day came, Loki found himself rather excited by the prospect of spending a few days away from Asgard. He told himself the butterflies in his stomach were from the responsibility invested on him to represent Asgard and the Nine Realms. They had nothing to do with seeing Sigyn again, of course not. Still, there was a little skip in his step when he and Frigga made way to the Bifrost chamber.

As in all the realms, Vanaheim had a special landing site for the Bifrost. It was very similar to the Alfheim one, except the stones that made the circle were blue. A wide stone road led out to the capitol, while other smaller dirt pathways led out to several shrines. Loki knew these were teleporting spots, portals that connected Vanaheim to other realms besides Asgard. Loki made way to the white Alfheim shrine to wait for Sigyn. His fingers traced the white stone, covered in familiar leaf patterns, and smiled to himself. His nostalgia was interrupted by a bright silver flash coming from the inside of the shrine.

Loki straightened himself and stood by the door and waited for Sigyn to come out. And what a vision she was. Her linen and silk dress was several shades of green, with golden leaves embroidered on the fabric that shimmered in the midday sun, making it look as if the light was going through the foliage of a tree. The golden and white sash on her waist was modeled after branches, and matched the design of the tiara on her head. Blue, red and yellow jewels embedded in the metal resembled little flowers.

Rendered temporarily speechless, Loki shook his head. In an attempt to get rid of the awkward atmosphere, he bowed theatrically, taking Sigyn’s hand and kissing it.

“Your majesty.” Loki chuckled.

“Your highness.” Sigyn bowed as well, trying to stifle a laugh. “What’s with the antlers?” 

“Har-har,” Loki said, unamused. “Ceremonial regalia. It’s  _ supposed _ to be intimidating, I think. I plan to get rid of it as soon as I’m allowed.” Sigyn’s face was red, and her lips pressed in a tight line as she tried not to giggle. “Laugh now, get it out of your system unless you want to enter the Realm looking like a strawberry,” he teased, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sorry!!” She broke down in hysterics, holding Loki’s arm to steady herself. “I’m sorry…” Finally she took a deep breath. “I’m fine now.” Loki stared blankly at her, and Sigyn broke down laughing again, unsuccessfully apologizing.

Loki shook his head a took a deep breath, smiling despite of himself while he waited for Sigyn to stop. She had tears in her eyes when the fit finally subsided.

“Okay, I am fine now. We can go.” Sigyn smiled at him.

He smiled back offering his arm for her to grab it. “You look beautiful.” 

Loki and Sigyn were led into a carriage that transported them to the castle. Conversation was light and amenable, and Loki felt like he was floating on air sitting next to Sigyn again, becoming aware every few minutes that she had grown in his absence and blushing at this observation. Sigyn gently placed her hand over his as they approached the castle, openly gaping at the sight of the carved crystal palace. 

_ Clearly Asgard doesn’t have the monopoly on gaudy castles,  _ Loki mused, both amused and impressed at the Vanir capitol. The entire entryway was a giant blue crystal that thrust toward the sky like a beacon, its edges perfect and straight. At the tip of the crystal was a smaller but no less impressive crystal that Loki assumed was a massive diamond, by the way it refracted the natural sunlight into sparkling rainbows everywhere the light touched. Even the stone pathway leading to the castle glittered with every shift of the light. 

“Look at it,” Sigyn breathed, her free hand resting on her chest in awe. “I haven’t been here since I was a child and the beauty of the castle still arrests me.”

The carriage stopped in front of the castle door and a servant assisted both of them out onto the front steps, bowing low and gesturing widely toward the open door to invite them in. Loki offered his arm to Sigyn and she gracefully placed her hand on his forearm, giving it a reassuring stroke with her thumb.

Already the front part of the castle was full to capacity with guests from other realms. Loki recognized a few members of nobility from Alfheim and Asgard and cringed inwardly. He was expected to play the part of the royal representative but he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. Politely greeting people along the way as they bowed their heads to him, Loki led Sigyn through the throng and past the crystal door frame and heavy white amethyst doors leading into the throne room.

Loki had learned in his studies that Asgard was unique in its showcasing of ceremonial events, so he knew that no one would see the newlyweds until after their vows, since the Vanir preferred privacy for their weddings. The party would take place later. There were only a few people in the throne room aside from himself and Sigyn, and he could hear muffled voices in an adjoining room, where he assumed the happy couple were tying the knot right then. 

The throne room itself was just as grand as the rest of the castle they had seen so far, nearly every surface all gleaming crystal and perfect edges. It was almost disorienting to the eye, the stark contrast between the sharp lines of the room and the organic curves of the people in it. The ceiling sloped up into a point and the blue crystal caused the room to be bathed in blue light that made one feel as though the room was underwater. Perched atop a white crystal dais, the throne itself was carved from several slabs of gold-laced white quartz. It was the only cushioned surface in the room, as the King likely spent a fair amount of time sitting on it. While beautiful, it was a kind of cold beauty that Loki found rather abrasive compared to the lush and green lands he had grown up in.  

Sigyn’s hand squeezed Loki’s arm and he turned to see her practically jumping up and down with excitement after seeing someone. She looked up at Loki with a smile before bounding off to greet a woman Loki recognized as her mother’s sister. He had met her a few times during his stay in Alfheim and knew she and Sigyn had a close bond. 

Excited chatter began to filter from the ceremonial chambers and Loki supposed it was nearly time for the couple to make their entrance. As if on cue, more and more guests came from the foyer to mingle, and Loki suddenly felt as though the air was getting thicker by the second. Whether it was the dense group of people, or the flickering blue light that filled the room as the sun raised higher in the sky and which reminded him of his dreams, he could feel a chill brewing in his chest and he had to get out of there quickly before he made a scene.

As subtly as he could, Loki slipped through the crowd as the new Vanir Prince and Princess emerged amidst loud cheering from the ceremonial chambers, followed by the King and Queen and a High Priestess. His fingertips tingled with cold and he gasped for breath when he finally found a second door that led out to a balcony overlooking the castle gardens. Quietly he approached the railing and closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of the river below. Surely no one would notice him gone, even with the conspicuous absence of the ridiculous horns he had to wear.

Loki leaned on the railing and willed his breathing to slow and tried to ignore the clamor of voices insides. His eyes flew open in surprise when he felt a hand grasping his. Standing there patiently, her hair and skirt blowing gently in the breeze, was Sigyn, her soft brown eyes full of concern. She stroked his hand with her thumb and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Are you okay?” Sigyn meant it sincerely, and took his other hand in hers. “Want me to go back in with you?” 

Loki considered this for a moment, and shook his head. “Not yet,” he murmured. “Just stay here with me.”

Sigyn returned his smile and leaned against his shoulder, still holding his hands. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, and Loki could sense his tension evaporating more as he moved his hands to pull her closer. Warmed by the sun, Sigyn’s hair smelled like roses, and the scent reminded him of all the time they spent together in Alfheim, the bond they shared, and the future he hoped to share with her. 

“I nearly forgot,” Loki mumbled, freeing one hand to dig in his leather pockets. “I have something for you.” Finally he found it, and pulled it out for Sigyn to see. A quiet gasp was all Sigyn could muster when she saw the thin but elegant gold ring, the design made of intricate knots interwoven with branches and leaves. 

“I promised you a real engagement ring, remember?”

Sigyn nodded wordlessly, her mouth still hanging open, eyes misting over. She held up her left hand and Loki was touched to see the original ring he had given her, a gold band from one of his braids that was covered in scuffs and scratches. He replaced it with the new ring, which fit perfectly and would last longer, and Sigyn grinned wide and stood up on her toes to press her lips to his. The sudden kiss surprised Loki but he held her like that for a few extra seconds before she took a step back to admire the ring.

Her smile vanished, however, when she looked past Loki toward the door.

“Erik.”


	18. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much needed closure.

_ Erik _ . 

Loki’s heart dropped like a ball of ice into his stomach. He was so preoccupied with the wedding reception and the ring that he had completely forgotten that Erik would probably be here. Frozen in place, he couldn’t make his muscles move to turn around. He heard Erik let out a breathy laugh and clear his throat but he still couldn’t move.

“I just… I saw the… are you…” Erik clearly couldn’t find his words either, tripping over every other syllable until he trailed off with a frustrated sigh. Finally Loki was able to turn around slowly, his eyes trailing up from the crystal floor and over Erik’s formal Vanir attire until he met his dark amber eyes. “Hi.”

Loki blinked a few times before he could answer. He suddenly felt self conscious of his helmet and took it off, making it disappear, and ran his fingers through his short hair to smooth it out. “Hi,” he managed to say, just loud enough for Erik to hear him. 

Sigyn broke the tension and ran to Erik for a hug, nearly knocking him down. “It’s so great to see you!”

“You too,” Erik replied, not bothering with masking his contempt, still staring into Loki’s eyes. “So, ah, you two getting married?”

Sigyn glanced over her shoulder at Loki and back up at Erik. “Yes,” she said slowly, carefully, forcing a smile. “We’ve gotten really close and my father figured there really couldn’t be any better of an arrangement. It won’t be for some time, but… yes.”

The fake smile on Erik’s face as he cast his eyes to the floor made Loki’s chest ache. Centuries had passed since he had last seen Erik but still he felt a longing he couldn’t describe. 

“You look well,” Erik said, hands clenched at his side. “Strong. The short hair works for you.”  _ You’ve changed,  _ Loki could practically hear him saying, the true meaning behind his words.  _ You’ve moved on. _

Loki took a step closer to Erik, then two. “You look good too,” he somewhat managed to put out in a steady voice.

His former lover had grown as well, nearly as tall as himself, with twice the musculature. Truly a man now, and a Prince,  _ not my tadpole anymore,  _ Loki realized _. _ Yet he was still just as handsome as the last night they had spent together all those years ago. Loki wanted to say more, so many words he had kept to himself for too long, and they were buzzing under his skin like insects. But he couldn’t afford to open himself up to those feelings again, not when it took so long to shut himself away from them.

“Erik, I -”

“There you are!”

A bright and cheery voice broke through the awkward silence and Princess Finja, Erik’s wife, came through the door from the throne room, smiling wide with her hand resting on the curve of her belly. Erik’s face lost its color but he straightened his spine and plastered on a grin as his wife came out to stand next to him. Quickly Loki stood up straight and collected himself as Finja recognized him and stared. He wished he could melt through the floor when she gathered her skirts and curtsied as low as she could.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted Loki, and did the same for Sigyn. “It’s an honor to have you both here. It was a pity you couldn’t come to our wedding celebration, but in another year or so we may have a naming ceremony to invite you to, if Erik ever makes up his mind about it.” Finja stroked her stomach affectionately but cut her eyes sharply at Erik, who had turned an almost sickly gray color.

“Of course,” Sigyn piped up, sparing Loki the need to respond. “A new baby, how exciting!”

_ A baby,  _ Loki pondered.  _ Poor Erik must have put duty over desire, or she forced him.  _ He shuddered inwardly at the thought of the latter.  _ Or the baby carries someone else’s genes… _

“Your Majesties, shall we come back to the party? The King and Queen were looking for you before I found you.” Finja’s sweet smile never wavered as she took Sigyn by the arm and led her through the door, leaving Loki and Erik staring at one another in tense silence. It was Loki who moved first, his hands clenched and his heart racing. He started toward the door and Erik instinctively put his arm behind him, just barely grazing Loki’s back, and Loki’s stride faltered from the slight contact.

“Loki…”   
  
“It’s okay, Erik, you don’t have to explain yourself.” Loki turned to face him, but his eyes didn’t meet Erik’s. “It’s been a long time-”

“A long time and yet you can’t look at me?” Erik’s voice was laced with sadness as he took a step in front of Loki. “I guess I should-”

“Please, Erik, don’t.” Loki took a deep breath and held it before looking at Erik. “It  _ has _ been a long time. We both have lives now and-” He tripped over his words, not sure of exactly what he wanted to say.

Erik nodded and forced a small smile. “Sigyn, huh? At least you got to choose a good one. She will surely make you happy.”

Loki felt his heart sink at the implications of his words.  _ Erik didn’t have the benefit of a choice. _ He lowered his voice for discretion. “And- are you happy?”

“It could be worse.” Erik shrugged his shoulders. “Finja and I have come to an understanding. We know what is expected of us.” Loki knew this very well: the obligations and duties of nobility was what tore them apart in the first place. “But we’re not blind or stupid. We mostly keep out of each other’s hair. She keeps my secrets and I keep hers. Play the happy couple in public.”

“So the baby-?” Loki asked tentatively.

Erik shook his head. “Not mine, except in name and status. I think I’ve touched that woman twice since we got married. Didn’t particularly enjoy it.”

Loki gulped hard. “And who do you -  _ enjoy _ ?”

Erik was surprised by the question, and noticed how Loki was holding his breath. He took a moment to decide how to answer that. “His name is Wilhelm,” he finally said. “He’s my squire now. Clever, discreet,  _ very _ good with his mouth…”

“I didn’t need to know that!” Loki covered his face with one hand and carefully peeked through his fingers to check that no one else was listening.

Erik laughed, successfully lowering the tension. “He kind of reminds me of you, you know?” He took a deep breath and lowered his head, fidgeting with his fingers. “He’s smart and kind and funny… He makes me happy. Makes me forget I’m living a lie.”

The knot in Loki’s stomach loosened a bit.  _ At least he’s happy. _ His head swam with memories and made up scenarios, so many things Loki had tried too hard to bury. They had been so happy, once, Loki thought he’d never be happy again when Erik left.

_ But I am. Sort of. _

Despite the pain that caused him to freeze half of Alfheim castle, despite believing nothing could ever be as good as what he had with Erik, his heart  _ had _ mended. He  _ had _ been able to explore love and pleasure and lust, and heartbreak. And now he was  _ engaged _ . Against all odds and expectations, he was the one engaged, to a princess, a great woman, a great friend.

“I’m- I guess, I’m-”

Erik smiled. “We had our time. As short as it was meant to be. I- I like to think I’ve made my peace with it.”

“Is that why you stopped writing?”

Erik nodded. “It just hurt too much. I needed a break from all the hurt. A break from my own head imagining we could be together again.”

Loki gave him a bittersweet smile. He knew the feeling all too well. A momentary pang of jealousy for the couple he had come to celebrate ran through him as he heard their joyful laughter spread through the throne room - at least they would never have to worry about choosing between love and duty, as clearly they had found both in their match.

Sigyn, reappearing on the window frame, made Loki realize that his lot wasn’t so bad after all.

“My prince, you should come back inside now. The newlyweds need Asgard’s blessing.” Sigyn smiled while she spoke, but her eyes denoted the urgency.

“Yes,” Loki said straightening up. “Of course. Will be right there.”

In a tiny flash of green, Loki made his helmet reappear. He took a deep breath and turned to Erik, words failing him once more.

“I have found my measure of happiness with what I have, Loki.” Erik was the one to speak. “I know you will find yours too. There are great things coming for you.” There was a veiled goodbye in his words, an unspoken but clear finality. They would not see each other again after this.

Slowly Loki nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. He held Erik’s gaze and reached to grasp his forearm. “Same for you, my friend.”

.-

The few days away from Asgard were a balm to Loki’s soul. A reminder of a life that waited for him outside the borders of his own realm, a place that no matter what, he could never bring himself to call home.  _ Home _ was somewhere else. 

Loki knew he had to be worthy of that home, of the responsibilities that home would demand of him in the future. He decided quite quickly and easily that he would do whatever it took to live up to those responsibilities.

His days became a blur of weapons and magic training, royal education and diplomatic meetings. Odin still requested him to attend dignitary audiences. Unlike Thor, who was quick to demand respect without earning it, and threatening with violence, Loki used his abilities and his brain to read people, and learned how to make himself indispensable to the crown. His silvertongue had been well known within Asgard, but the knowledge spread wider, increased by his insistence to accompany Asgard’s High Chancellor on dignitary duties, reasoning that a hands-on learning process was much more effective and useful. Not only was Loki able to outmaneuver dignitaries and nobles in such a way that they didn’t even know it happened, which directly opposed Odin’s normal show of power in an effort to intimidate, but it was Loki who knew when and how such men and women were trying to trick them and was the first to make it known.

It was also a very clever way to set himself apart from his brother. Thor’s approach to things was always to hit first and ask questions later. Many realms made the mistake of assuming Loki, just as his father and brother did, would come boasting Asgard’s military strength and power. Most of the diplomats were pleasantly surprised, as they could hold a civil conversation with the younger prince. But at the same time many of them grew weary of him, spreading rumors of mind control and dark magic, refusing to audience with the second,  _ lesser _ prince. Loki was at least grateful that Odin failed to make a big deal of it. As long as Loki's abilities were useful, he would ignore them, and decided Loki was the best representative to deal with affairs in his name.

Whatever time that wasn’t dedicated to combat training or royal duties, Loki spent at the library. Soon, he gave up trying to convince Odin of expanding their collection, and seeing the books curator wouldn’t go against Odin’s orders, Loki took advantage of his newly found freedom. He had already learned to conceal himself from Heimdall, and his next step was to track hidden and forgotten portals in and out of Asgard. This allowed him to smuggle not only books, but several curious contraptions, including a device that recorded and reproduced music. His chambers were too small to store all this new found treasures, so he magicked himself a private room in the library, filling it up with all his findings. He used it to study, read, learn and write.

But the room had yet another purpose: it became his hideout. No one knew about it, not even his mother. Whenever he wasn’t in the mood for family dinners, he was secreted away in his little corner of the world, writing letters to Sigyn, deep in the pages of a book or poring over some new music he had found. It became his haven from the pressures of castle life and allowed him to pretend the kingdom wasn’t heading toward ruin.

Because Thor was in no rush of learning or growing. He was comfortably following his father’s steps, replicating his ways. Proud and hot headed, the elder Prince liked to muscle his way out of problems and would rarely think before acting, especially when he was provoked or teased. Many a meeting was spent with Loki trying to put out a few fires, both figuratively and at times literally. Thor lacked the wisdom of age and experience it took to know when and how to act like a King, and lacked the will to learn how to.

But time wasn’t something that the kingdom was afforded, for the Allfather was steadily growing ever older, weaker by the year. Odinsleeps came more frequently and began to last longer, leaving the kingdom vulnerable even with the Queen and her sons to protect the realm. It was clear that Odin’s rivals and enemies began to take notice when ambassadors and dignitaries paid their visits to the King. No one outside of the castle saw it but Odin became convinced the other realms were mobilizing against him.

Asgard needed to make a statement.

It wasn’t long before Thor’s coronation was announced, and Loki was already coming up with a plan. He didn’t want the throne for himself, but there had to be a better choice than Thor. If Odin wasn’t able to see how bad a king and ruler Thor would be, Loki would take matters in his own hands and make the whole of the nine realms aware of his negligence. 

**Author's Note:**

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